


Clueless in Ouran

by luxartisan



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Firsts, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship to Love, Getting Together, Het and Slash, M/M, Questioning, Romance, Sexual Content, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 68
Words: 236,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxartisan/pseuds/luxartisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ouran Academy is an academic powerhouse but its students aren't always smart about matters of the heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything but Ordinary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome readers! This is a serial soap opera fic originally written as a two-shot posted in January 2013. The story expanded, updating on a steady basis for the next four years until its conclusion in July 2017 with 65 chapters and a 3-part epilogue. Chapter titles are taken from songs with lyrics posted at the end of each chapter serving as overture, underscore or omake (reader's choice). A search on You Tube for Clueless in Ouran will bring up the song catalog. Inner thoughts are set off in italics. Note: As a writer, my stories are often written in present tense which reflects the way I work, which is from a cinematic point of view. Won't you suspend disbelief and join me in my madness? I think you'll enjoy the show. Thank you for reading. Angelle

**Chapter 1 - Anything but Ordinary**

"What a week," Haruhi grumbles. She presses open the heavy door to Music Room 3. Inside it's quiet for a Thursday afternoon in February. Neither Tamaki nor Kyoya are available today and without Father and Mother, the Host Club's regular hours are suspended.

 _Just as well. I have two exams tomorrow and I'm only ready for one._ She hangs her winter coat and accessories in the wardrobe. The spine of her history text crackles and she thumbs to the assigned chapter. Flipping open her netbook, she sits down at the small work table. Contrary to what she once thought, she finds the buzz of the outer room an aide in helping her focus, as long as it doesn't get too raucous. _And minus Tamaki-senpai, I can stay late without his freaking out and forcing me to leave._

"Ha-ru-hi!" come the sing-song voices of the Hitachiin brothers as they enter the prep room. _Here we go._ They drape themselves on opposite sides of her as she tries to ignore them.

"Anything we can help with?" Kaoru to her left asks as a legitimate question.

"We'd love to assist." That would be Hikaru to her right, lacing his statement with innuendo.

"Yes," she replies, sitting back in her chair and turning her head to regard one pair of amber eyes, then the other. "You can leave me alone. I have to study." She observes the predictable pouts and promptly ignores them.

"Hikaru, Haruhi must be going through that 'difficult time' and doesn't feel friendly."

"Poor Haruhi. Just imagine if we had to endure such discomfort." They fall into each other's arms.

"It would be unbearable."  
"I couldn't stand to see you suffer."

"Would you guys get lost already?" Haruhi gripes.

"Killjoy," Hikaru tosses off before they shuffle to the loveseat beneath the arched windows.

She returns her attention to her reading getting through only a page of dry material before Honey's delighted squeal is heard.

"Haru-chan, I brought you a treat," the diminutive boy chortles. He stands on the opposite side of the table and pushes a fine china plate towards her laden with a bakery confection Haruhi wants, but resists. If she accepted every offering Honey-senpai presented, she'd have to buy a new wardrobe.

"Thank you, Honey-senpai. Hello, Mori-senpai." She doesn't need to see him to know he's nearby.

"Hnnn," comes the ubiquitous response which means, " _Hello Haruhi. I can see you're pretty busy so I'll get my cousin out of your hair. Bye."_

The petite brunette shakes her head and sighs to herself. She's definitely been a host too long if she understands Morispeak. The twins have settled within her line of sight or her within theirs depending on your point of view. Their shoes are off with their stockinged feet and lower legs entwined as if one person with two heads. They're busy with their smartphones, fingers flying and mouths moving.

"Hey, Kaoru. Take a look at this." Fingers flash.

"Woah. She's hot." Flash, flash.

"What do you think about the outfit?"

"A bit trashy, but fixable."

"How?"

"Less fabric." They burst into mutual laughter.

"First-years," she mutters to herself. In a raised voice, she says, "Can't you just text?"

"Of course," admits Kaoru.

"But it's more fun this way," Hikaru informs in a snarky tone of voice.

"Fun for whom?" she retorts, irked with herself for even responding.

"For all of us," he continues throwing her an irresistible smile. _Damn Hitachiin_. Their grades are good by Ouran's standards, but their futures are assured regardless. Hers is not. Her shoulders slump in defeat. Maybe a straightforward request will work. "Don't you get it? I _have_ to study."

Hikaru disentangles himself, rises and slips on his loafers before extending a hand to his brother. "Come along, Kaoru. Far be it from us to be the cause of Haruhi obtaining anything less than her usual perfect scores."

The seated boy grabs the proffered hand, holding onto it as he dons shoes. They put their heads together and check out one another's devices, chuckling at something she doesn't want to know about. "To-mor-row," they chime as they leave the suite.

_Alone at last._

It's quiet for some time after that, but she finds herself staring at the small font of her textbook without comprehension. The longer she stares, the drowsier she becomes. It isn't fatigue; it's boredom. The blank screen of her netbook is still blank and she's beginning to doubt that it will be filled any time soon.

"Idleness is the devil's playground" she can hear her mom say and she ponders the meaning of the axiom. Certainly, no one could accuse _her_ of idleness. _I barely have enough hours in the day to get everything done. But…the devil's playground? What would that look like?_

Before she can even contemplate the idea, several faces come to mind - the entire Host Club, in fact. _Is that really how I think of them? Devilish playmates?_ Haruhi's interest is tempted away from her studies to less weighty, though far more intriguing, matters.

 _If they are devils, they encourage sin. But which ones?_ She dismisses Honey outright, then wonders, _Does coveting sweets count as Gluttony? He does eat three cakes for dessert every night, so yeah, I guess so._

 _Mori-senpai?_ Haruhi has to think on that one. _The boy is an athletic god and one of the nicest people I know, but he probably has a dark side…somewhere. Most people do or at least have a secret they don't want widely known. Besides, it's Crush-on-Mori week._ Her affection for one host or another varies in duration, but never for long. _Well then, be honest with yourself and admit that for this week, Mori-senpai is inciting Lust - unrequited, of course. It'll pass._

She considers the twins. _Imps, yes. Devils, no_. And whatever they did in the privacy of their lives was their business. Her father is a working transvestite, after all, and she's accustomed to odd glances and whispers. _Maybe that's why I'm comfortable with these guys. As for the Hitachiins' sins: for Kaoru, it's Vanity. No question. And Hikaru's temper is problematic so….Anger?_

 _Tamaki-senpai._ He bedevils her with his antics, _but he means well. He's just so over the top. Still, if any sin is his, it has to be Pride. I guess it's justifiable - top grades, almost girlish beauty, brilliant at piano and poised to inherit a fortune._ She treasures his friendship and ignores the rest.

That leaves only one Host Club member to consider: _Kyoya-senpai_. Haruhi's thoughts stop cold. The Host Club's vice-president possesses classic good looks, a razor-sharp mind and a bonafide Cayman bank account at the tender age of eighteen. _Is Greed his failing?_ There's definitely a dark side to the upperclassman. Kyoya doesn't interact with the world - he observes and influences it. _Well, that is his job. Planning and earning the club profits. Practice for the real world, right?_

But it's more than that. Kyoya has a way of holding himself apart even while in their midst. Their guests see it as cool or mysterious which works to his advantage, but he doesn't have a true following nor does he cultivate one. _Tamaki must have agreed to that, but why? If he's gay, I don't care. Asexual? Unlikely. Bisexual? Completely possible. Oh, why am I over-thinking this? Because I'm curious. No matter how you look at it, I'm a member of a club that exists to entertain girls who have too much time on their hands and too much romance on the brain. At least the girls are upfront in their adoration and the boys really are gentlemen even if they are feeding their egos and sublimating some of their sexual urges. Thank you, Psych class, for helping me understand guys' stupid behaviors_.

And speaking of the hosts' behaviors, she's only just learned that while the girls think they select their favorite host, it is the girl herself who is evaluated upon first coming to the club. It's then decided which host is best suited to meet the girl's needs for flattery, attention and hi-jinks. _Quite calculated_ , Haruhi thinks, knowing that Kyoya is the mastermind of that particular convention. _I haven't been briefed on the specifics yet, but I can guess._

Haruhi watches the cursor on the pristine screen of her netbook tap with impatience. Clearly, she's not studying. _That which we resist persists_. With a groan, she starts typing…

**Assignment of Guests by Type**

**Haruhi - Can work with girls who like the bookish, sensitive type; the one who relates to their problems. They enjoy his intellectual companionship thinking that their maidenhood is safe or that they can teach him a thing or two, in due time.**

She stares at what she's just stated. _Ugh. I even wrote 'his.' Still, it sounds right. Cool._ Emboldened, she continues…

**Honey - Gets the girls with a "cute" fetish; the ones who will overdose on anything small, sweet, big-eyed, fluffy, furry or cuddly. They simply adore him and never suspect that the nearly-nineteen year old is a master actor playing a role while gobbling up the attentions of his loyal ladies and all the sweets he can find.**

_So ingenious, it's ingenious._ She holds up two fists, thumbs up. _Props to the Candyman._

**Mori - Attracts sensible girls who take their studies seriously, are somewhat non-athletic and a bit shy. His quiet devotions are comforting while his physical stature makes him both a fantasy object and a potential bodyguard. Little do they know...**

_Fantasy object? Little do they know? Get a life, Haruhi._

**Hikaru and Kaoru - Where one goes, the other follows and that is their singular/dual draw. Their twincest-obsessed visitors gravitate to them from the outset and require no special handling at all. Actually, it's the twins who need handling.**

_That's putting it mildly._

**Tamaki - Enter the master at handling the difficult girls. The most spoiled, vain and demanding daughters of the elite melt under his warm gaze and adoring words. Yes, they do, and just about every other female with whom he comes into contact.**

_Mais Pourquoi?_ And finally,

**Kyoya - All the rest if he wanted them? No way. The third son of the Ootori family would never accept sloppy seconds or sloppy anything, for that matter. The girl he would like would have to be not just bright, but clever; pretty though not necessarily beautiful, but self-made in her own right even if from a distinguished family. Oh, why do I even care?**

"Why indeed?" The voice that asks is precise, mellow and somewhat amused.

Haruhi stops typing and sits frozen. Then, without hurrying, her hands move to close the netbook, fingers resting against the smooth surface while a slow burn colors her cheeks. _Busted._ She lifts and turns her head, meeting the gray eyes that hold hers steadily. G _et a grip, Haruhi. It's only Kyoya-senpai messing with your head, again._

The prickle of annoyance spurs her. "I thought rich people had better manners than to read over someone's shoulder, especially if it's personal. Your parents would be disappointed." The words are out before she can recall them, but she's surprised at the flash of hurt in his face before his well-worn mask is reseated. "I'm sorry," she offers.

"No, I'm sure they are." His sarcasm holds a ring of truth that unsettles her. She sees it in the way his body has stiffened and the line of his mouth hardened. He turns away and leans back into the table, half-sitting on it with one hand grasping the edge, close to the netbook.

She pushes back her chair and stands, now eye to eye with him. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"Hh?" He leans back a bit as if he hadn't heard her. _That's weird. Kyoya-senpai is never caught off guard_.

"About your parents," she says voice level and non-judgmental. "What makes you think they're disappointed in you?" His eyes search hers for motive before darting away. "I'm interested."

He blinks several times and lifts his chin, pushing back his glasses with two fingers. He begins to say something, then stops. First hurt and now indecision in the person she thought impervious to such things. He attempts to move past her, but she reaches out and grabs his sleeve. He stops and she stares up into his profile. "Just talk to me."

He doesn't look at her. "Why? Do you need the gratification of knowing you can get me to share something about myself with you?" His subtle disdain cuts her, but she still wants to know what's bothering him.

"Why are you so distant? What did they do to you?"

"As your notes state: why do you care?" He turns and looks at her, challenge in his eyes.

"I don't know, except I thought we were friends."

"That's not a word I take lightly, Haruhi."

"I respect that. I respect you, Kyoya-senpai. Don't you know that?" Her voice holds the hurt at his rebuff of her friendship. "I guess it really is silly for me to think that you would consider me your friend just because we see one another nearly every day. Yet, here I am ticked off about you reading some personal nonsense while I expect you to tell me your problems. I apologize. It's your decision who your friends are and who you confide in. It's your life." She emphasizes the last three words as admonishment to herself. "I really am sorry," she says calmly then turns to collect her things.

"It's…complicated."

She doesn't turn, fearful that if she does, conversation will cease. "Families usually are," she replies. "You know, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I'll listen to whatever you do want to say. And it stays between us - guaranteed. That's how it works."

"And I suppose I'll be expected to reciprocate the gesture?" His tone conveys his opinion of that idea.

Her sympathy turns to pique and she moves until she's facing him, looking him in the eye. "I'm not a guest you have to entertain. My happiness is not your responsibility. That's _my_ job. All I ask is that you make a little space in your life for me - and I'll do the same for you."

"I may fail you." The word 'fail' and Kyoya are incongruent to her.

She shakes her head with a sough of air. "I doubt you've failed at anything in your life."

"Not true."

"Oh?"

"According to my parents, I _am_ a failure." He says it without rancor, dark hair falling forward as his head tilts downwards.

"How can that be?" Her eyes widen and her voice is soft. She thinks of her dad and the way he drives her crazy with his overprotective doting. She remembers her mom and the way she always made time for her. _How could any parent think such a brilliant and talented son is a failure or make him feel that way?_

He heads to the sofa the twins occupied earlier and sits down at one end. He crosses his legs and leans back, running elegant hands beneath his glasses to massage his eyes and caress his temples with small circles. Loosening the knot of his tie, he unbuttons the top button of his shirt along with his blazer. He doesn't look at her and she wonders if indirect contact is the only way he can open up to anyone. "Dear, naïve Haruhi," he says at last. "Life is different for the children of wealthy families."

"Hm. Tell me something I don't know." She moves towards the sofa with slow even steps.

"I told you once. People only see the trappings and ornaments of power and prestige. What they don't see is the pressure and expectations, the never ceasing reminders about your _place_ , your _role_ , your _duty_ to family."

"But I thought you considered it a fun challenge." She stands at the opposite end of the sofa now.

"When the odds are manageable. Not when they're completely stacked against you." He turns towards her then, uncrossing his legs and shifting to face her with his inside leg angled on the sofa. "Besides, you have something that I will never have no matter how much money my family possesses. You have freedom, Haruhi. I do not and never will."

She's stunned by his assessment. "Senpai-"

"Kyoya is fine. I think you've earned that privilege and," He stops then adds, "I apologize if I've made you feel that I don't consider you a friend because I do."

"Thank you," she says with a tentative smile. She sits down, facing towards him, hands in her lap.

"Privilege. Such an ironic word." He almost sounds wistful.

"How so?"

"The word itself comes from the Latin 'privilegium' meaning a law affecting one person, yet an entire group has adopted the term to exempt themselves from the rules that most people have to follow. The irony is that if you're in that group, your individual rights are actually curtailed by the norms of the group which includes never deviating from the expected path…without consequence."

"Then you have a choice. It just depends on how badly you want something and what you're willing to do or give up to get it."

"If you're suggesting that I cut ties with my family, that's unlikely."

"No, but it's not like you to balk at a challenge. If there's something you want for yourself that's different than what your family wants, you should own it. If they love you, they'll accept it from you. And if they don't, are you really willing to sacrifice your life to them?" He says nothing but she thinks he's heard her.

"When did you decide you wanted to be a lawyer?" It's a classic debate dodge to answer a question with another question, but she'll play.

"I don't think it was ever not a possibility."

"Then it's what you've always wanted to do?" His interest seems genuine and it gives her an opportunity to talk about her mom. She warms to the topic.

"Ever since I was little and Mom took me to work. I saw how people treated her and listened to what she had to say. I knew she helped people who needed it and I liked that."

"Criminal law, then?"

"She said it didn't pay very well, but money wasn't the goal. Helping people was."

"What about you? Your father tells me he hopes you study corporate law."

She's suddenly wary. "You talked to Dad about it?"

"Haruhi - it's not prying."

She's annoyed when she says, "Like hell it's not. How did you two start chatting anyway?"

"I told you when we were at your home. Your otou-san is involved in your life. He does what he does because he cares. It's pretty typical for Ouran."

"Typical?"

"I imagine most students here complain because their parents keep tabs on them one way or another. And the ones with parents who practice laissez-faire, secretly wish that they didn't. Odd, isn't it?"

Her irritation at him subsides. "You mean to say that your parents check up on _you_?"

"You sound surprised."

"But, sen- Kyoya, you're a class rep and you're at the top of your class."

"Apparently, that's not enough."

"What more do they expect?"

"My blood it seems." He's tried to make a joke of it, but Haruhi hears otherwise.

End - Chapter 1 - Anything But Ordinary

* * *

 

Anything But Ordinary \- Avril Lavigne [Haruhi-centric]

Sometimes I get so weird I even freak myself out.  
I laugh myself to sleep. It's my lullaby.  
Sometimes I drive so fast just to feel the danger.  
I want to scream. It makes me feel alive.

CHORUS  
Is it enough to love?  
Is it enough to breathe?  
Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed.  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life.  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.

To walk within the lines would make my life so boring.  
I want to know that I have been to the extreme.  
So knock me off my feet. Come on now give it to me.  
Anything to make me feel alive.

CHORUS

Let down your defenses. Use no common sense.  
If you look you will see that this world is a beautiful accident:  
turbulent, succulent, opulent, permanent (no way).  
I want to taste it. Don't want to waste it away.

Sometimes I get so weird I even freak myself out.  
I laugh myself to sleep. It's my lullaby.  
Is it enough?  
Is it enough?

Is it enough to breathe?  
Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed.  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life **.**  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.  
Is it enough?  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life.  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.

Oh, I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.

 


	2. Last First Kiss

He rises and crosses back to the table, pressing his hands against the flat surface. He's calm on the surface, but she hears the seethe beneath.

"The meeting I was at today? It was with my parents and the headmaster. My father and mother don't think I'm applying myself to my studies with enough vigor. They're worried that I won't be accepted into my father's alma mater like my older brothers."

Haruhi is still, just watching. This is someone she has never met. Like a tiger circling without rest, she feels the tension rolling off of him. Kyoya even partially unbound is intimidating.

His voice never rises in volume but his fists are now clenched against the tabletop, intensity tightly wrapped. "What they fail to take into consideration is that competition to get into said university has increased exponentially over the last few years and the scores that I possess, though surpassing my brothers, are no longer a lock for entry, even as a legacy. Therefore, I must either improve my grades or give up all extra-curricular activities."

Her voice is quiet, soothing. "I'm sure they just want the best for you."

He turns his head to regard her, composure regained. "That's what Mother says. Father just says 'with great privilege comes great responsibility.'" He looks downward again, an internal dialogue playing in his head before murmuring, "Whatever." He straightens and drops his head to one shoulder then the other to release the stress coiled there.

She wishes she could help. "Is there anything you need? I could prepare some white tea for you."

"Playing host to me? There aren't many who know my preferences."

"It's really no mystery. I check the pantry on a regular basis and we don't serve that to our guests." _Though I do pay attention._

"But you took note of it. I'm fine, thank you." He returns to the sofa and drops his knee onto it before sitting down, body facing her, an arm laid casually along the sofa's spine. "So," he says, "how do you like being a host?"

"It's interesting. It's annoying. It's…"

"Fun?" The look in his eye is conspiratorial.

She nods and can't stifle the smile that lights her face. "Yeah. Sometimes it's fun. Actually, most of the time it's fun."

"That's true." He gives a wry smile that she returns with a quirk of an eyebrow, feeling as if they share an inside joke.

"I mean, I never planned to be a host but I do have an obligation. And don't even go there," she warns with a finger pointed towards him.

"That's rude." He grabs her hand in one his. It's warmer and larger and wraps around her own. "But surely you could earn more money with a regular job."

"Maybe," she replies, extricating her hand from his, his fingers releasing hers slowly. _Huh?_ "But that wouldn't be as much - fun, as you point out."

"You've certainly taken to it quite well, though I sometimes wonder if you're suppressing your natural inclinations or feeding into them."

The unspoken question in the room looms large. "Senpai- I mean, Kyoya?"

"Hmmm?"

"You don't think I'm a lesbian or something like that do you?"

His brows arch with curiosity. "Are you?"

She deliberately squeezes her eyes shut and pictures the Lobelia Academy girls twirling around the bare-chested hosts in beachwear. She smiles in spite of herself. "Nope, not happening." A deep-chested chuckle erupts beside her. She opens her eyes and finds him studying her. "I'll even admit that watching all of you interact with the girls has its charms." That garners her a pointed look.

"So you watch us?" He looks at her from over the tops of his glasses which, once again, have slipped a bit down his nose. The familiar amused smile is coupled with heightened interest in his eyes. "I didn't think you noticed."

Her jacket is uncomfortably warm and she turns her head so as not to look at him. "I'm not immune, you know."

"You've changed, Haruhi."

"Well…I have thought about what you told me and you were right. I can't be naïve about things even if I am still clueless at times."

"We know."

"But that doesn't mean I'm completely unaware or-" She stops herself before she says 'unaffected.' _You really are clueless, Haruhi, if you admit how you sometimes think of them - every one of them._ She tips her head, angling her chin towards him so she can see his face. The intensity she glimpsed before has found its way to his eyes with herself as the focus. Her mouth goes dry and she feels a subtle pulse throughout her body.

Kyoya leans in, his voice soft, non-threatening. "It's perfectly normal, Haruhi. No need to pretend otherwise."

His mixed signals are confusing. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"I imagine it's much the same as what's going on in yours," he says with aplomb. _That tears it._ His usual unflappable demeanor has always confounded her but his assumptions about her thoughts, true or not, cannot remain unaddressed.

"You think you know me?" she challenges shifting her weight onto the arm nearest him and leaning forward, shifting the balance of power as he leans back.

"No better than you know me." Something in the way he says that makes her pause. His eyelids droop with a casual glance at her mouth before returning her gaze.

She retreats. "I think we should change the subject."

"Feeling skittish?"

_Oh_ , y _ou did not just say that._ "You wish. What do you want to know?" With her ire piqued, she feels a certain recklessness in countering.

"For starters, I'm curious. If you weren't a host, would you have come here as a guest?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"That's equivocal."

"How can I speculate on an imaginary past?"

"True."

"My turn," she says and smiles with only a jot of mischief.

"Are we playing truth or dare?"

"Seems like."

"Fine. Ask." He sounds as if he's bored, but she wonders.

"Why don't you have a regular following? You're intelligent, handsome, have a certain je ne sais quoi."

"Stop. I'm blushing." He says it without any inflection whatsoever. _Liar._

"No you're not. You love it."

"You have found me out." She laughs then, tension broken. That's when she notices that they are leaning towards one another, their faces about a foot apart. She knows she should pull back, but she rather likes this game.

"My turn," he says.

"Yes?"

"I know you kissed that young woman, by accident of course, but have you ever kissed a boy?" She knows his question is lighthearted but she is suddenly all too aware of their proximity, their isolation and the way her heartbeat has jumped.

"U-uh, no."

"Not even Arai?"

"No," she insists.

"Would you like to?"

"Kiss Arai?" Now she's dodging _his_ question.

"You know what I mean." She has no idea how to answer, her non-response being a small sound from the back of her throat. "You're a lovely young woman, Haruhi, and the world is full of less than honorable young men who would simply take what they want without asking."

"I don't think -"

"We both think way too much. Just answer." Then he waits, his attitude one of patience and faith that he will get the answer he seeks. His arm slides along the back of the sofa and behind her. He leans in a tiny bit more.

_Is this really happening? But if not now, when?_ Her answer is nearly a question _._ "Yes."

"May I have the honor, then? And that's all it will be. No more, no less."

His face is slightly above hers and it's only now that she's aware of his scent combined with subtle spice and exotic flower. His nearness and provocative aroma are making her a little dizzy and taking a full breath not possible. Still, the rhythm and formality of his words sound like someone else she knows and she can't resist.

"You've been hanging out with Tamaki-senpai _way_ too long." A tiny bubble of laughter sounds in her chest. "But it's a good line, really." Another bubble.

He's taken aback for only a moment or two, but recovers. "Do you doubt my sincerity?"

"Hmm. You are a host, after all. Your motives, while unclear, are not above suspicion. I'm not sure what your gain in this will be but there has to be something. Is it power, control or possession?"

Her analysis produces a smile from him. "You're going to be an excellent attorney, Haruhi. But right now, all I want to know is do you want me to kiss you?" He reaches out with his free hand to run his fingers along the side of her face until her jaw rests lightly against his palm, the two fingers that he uses to push up his glasses caressing her ear, then drawing the lobe between them applying miniscule pressure. The subtle tactile sensation ricochets through her. Her breathing has become shallow and she can feel her heightened awareness of him coursing through every fiber of her being. She's geared for fight-or-flight, but it feels so good, so right, to have him there.

He's waiting for an answer so she merely nods.

Without a change in expression he removes his hand, much to her regret, and takes off his glasses, folding in a temple with his fingers, the other by pressing it against the lapel of his jacket and tucking them inside. His face is tilted downwards for a few seconds and Haruhi wets her lips. Kyoya with glasses is easy on the eyes. Kyoya without glasses is drop dead gorgeous. He looks younger, his fine features and smooth skin still holding the roundness of youth and, though different in coloring, he could give Tamaki a run for the money. In fact, he does.

"Why do you wear glasses?" she asks on impulse, her voice nearly a whisper.

"That seems a silly question." He replies in like fashion.

"What I mean is, you could wear contacts. So why?"

"Why do you pretend to be a boy?"

Throughout their exchange, he's been edging closer.

She holds herself still, needs to ground herself in the wake of her quickly escalating pulse and breathing. With his face only inches from hers, he smiles.

"Close your eyes, Haruhi." She can feel his breath on her lips.

"But I want to see you."

His eyes crinkle. "You always keep me guessing, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to talk forever or let me do this?"

"Let y-"

But he stops her with his closed lips on hers, the hand behind her head gently raking upwards against her scalp and threading through her hair at the nape of her neck, sending shivers up her back. Her eyes snap shut and though she tries to process what's happening, instinct kicks in. All she can think about is the way his lips feel on hers - soft, warm, inviting. Butterflies dance in her stomach as she feels him lean into her hands pressed against his chest. _So this is a kiss._ He follows the first with a quick second and third, each undemanding but relentless, as if he can't stop himself. A slight graze of teeth against her lower lip sends another flush through her, leaving her shaken.

"So sweet," she hears him murmur when they part. Her eyes are still closed when she feels pressure from a finger pressing between her brows. She opens her eyes and his face is just above hers.

"What are you doing?"

His hand drops to her shoulder. "You looked worried."

"I'm not worried," she argues, a bit breathless caught in the depths of his eyes.

"What were you thinking then?"

She inhales and exhales unevenly. "I was thinking it was, ummm, a very nice first kiss..or two..or three. I guess that means I'm officially on my way to becoming a woman."

"It would seem so."

She warns with mock emphasis, "And don't ask if I need help figuring it out."

"Will you let me know if you do?" His tone is serious, no trace of their earlier repartee evident.

"You'll be one of the first to know," she tosses off, trying to regain a sense of independence.

"Haruhi," he says with some firmness, his hold on her tightening ever so slightly. He regards her, seriousness fizzling in her soft gaze. "Don't change too much," he says, a command and request simultaneously.

She smiles, about to tell him that he needn't worry when she spies the shift in his expression. It's one she remembers seeing before, on a rainy night in Okinawa. _Oh._ Anxiety flutters through, a passing thought that collides with a sudden tug at her core. _Ohh. That's definitely different._

Her cheeks color and his eyes soften in response as he drops his head towards her again. _Yes, please_. She lifts her chin. His lips hover above hers. Her lids droop and a small sound escapes her as he gradually captures her upper lip between his own and tugs…once…twice. The third time, she gets it, increasing the pressure of her lower lip against his.

A hum sounds at the back of his throat and she feels him smile against her mouth. He presses her back into the corner where they sit. The hand on her shoulder moves to encircle her waist, pulling her against him. He's gentle, but she feels the underlying strength of his grasp. The neo-synapses in her brain groove deeper as they're reinforced by the familiar feel of his lips on hers, but with a new element - the slow slide of the tip his tongue against her closed mouth. Without thought, her lips part to feel more of him, her own tongue tentative in seeking him.

_This is…better._ Her heartbeat doubles and another, warmer flush overtakes her, spreading throughout her body and pooling between her legs. _Much, much better._ His tongue laps against hers with slow unhurried movements and she thinks she could do this for hours. Her breath is uneven, her pulse thrumming. Reality around her fades further and further away as the sensation of pleasure rises within her. In her fantasies, it's mild - barely a hint of what she's now feeling.

The hand at her waist moves along her side, sliding against her breast to lightly clutch the lapel of her jacket. Through the miasma of her mind, she realizes where he's going with this. _We should stop before we do something I'll regret._ But her body has become leaden, her hand pushing weakly at him. "Kyoya, stop," she murmurs against his mouth, then turns her head to one side. He continues to place small kisses across her cheek until she feels his breath warm against her ear.

"I don't want to," he breathes.

"Please," she softly entreats while pushing at him with easy but steady pressure.

He backs off, reluctance in lethargy, and releases her. With no small amount of regret she pulls herself out of his embrace and stands, her legs a bit unsteady. She faces away from him as she straightens her jacket and tie with hands that still tingle with a raised pulse. She looks back at him. He's slouched against the back of the sofa, one leg bent, the other extended. His jacket is unbuttoned, his tie askew. His affect is soft, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips together without any tension, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. _Eighteen, bright, beautiful and rich._ And now an indelible part of her memory that no other male can claim.

"I should go home," she says.

He opens his eyes. "Yes. That would be best. My driver can take you," he says settling his glasses back on his face and pulling himself together.

"Thank you."

She returns to the table where her belongings lay. She combs her hair with her fingers and tousles her bangs, wondering if she looks any different than when she entered the room earlier today. _Will they notice tomorrow?_ She turns off the netbook and picks up her history book, depositing both into her book bag.

Kyoya travels the room, turning off lights and pushing furniture into order. Coats, scarves and gloves are put on. The outer room is too quiet without the usual sparkle and chatter that keeps it alive and they are quiet with one another. The double doors close behind them with a soft snick and they head down the hallway, footsteps softly tapping against the marble floor. Kyoya summons the car by phone and it pulls up not long after they exit the building.

A light snow is falling and the winter air feels cooler than necessary against her skin so she knows she must look guilty about something. _Thank goodness for discreet help. Damn, did I really just say that?_ She enters the car and Kyoya follows. They sit on opposite ends of the bench seat _,_ each into their thoughts. A piano concerto is playing on the stereo, easing the silence.

She stares out the window at the slushy roads and homeward bound commuters, but leaves a hand on the center arm rest between them. The fifteen minute drive passes without his taking it. _So, that's it, then. No more, no less._ _Just circumstance and opportunity. But it didn't feel that way._ The thought lingers.

"You can pull over here," Kyoya tells the chauffeur. "No need to get out." The car stops a discreet distance from her apartment building. He pushes the curbside door open and she slides across the seat and takes his hand. She doesn't need the assistance but she wants to touch him again, disappointed when he lets it go. _Why do I feel like crying?_

He carries her book bag as they walk side by side, indigo evening and swirling flakes surrounding them. The air smells fresh and she breathes it in to quiet her mind. They face one another at the entryway, off to one side.

"You know, much as I enjoy planning, I didn't plan this," he says. The crystalline flakes gather on the dark wool of his coat and even darker hair.

"No worries. It's between us, right?"

"Of course," he reassures and she believes he'll hold her confidence. "Thank you for listening today. Tamaki told me I should talk to you and he was right. He may be an idiot, but sometimes he's quite wise. And though we're best friends -" He steps in and kisses the top of her head saying, "I'm quite competitive and he knows it."

_Is he talking academics or...what?_ She heads towards the door, her thoughts a tangle. He calls her name and she turns. "Hmmm?"

His game face has returned and his voice is steady. "I know it's a short list, but keep me in mind, would you?" Then the ever so cool Ootori Kyoya winks at her before turning and heading down the street.

She wrinkles her brow again. S _hort list? For what?_ When she realizes, her eyes grow wide and she blushes, fists curled at her sides. "Haruhi," she says aloud into the night, "You really _are_ clueless!"

End - Chapter 2 - Last First Kiss

* * *

Last First Kiss \- One Direction [Kyoya-centric]

Baby I, I want to know what you think when you're alone.  
Is it me? _yeah_  
Are you thinking of me? _yeah_  
Oh, we've been friends now for a while.  
Want to know that when you smile, is it me? _yeah_  
Are you thinking of me? _yeah_  
Oh, Oh...

Girl, what would you do? Would you want to stay if I were to say...

CHORUS  
I want to be last. _yeah_  
Baby, let me be your, let me be your last first kiss.  
I want to be first. _yeah_  
Want to be the first to take it all the way like this.  
And if you only knew I want to be last. _yeah_  
Baby, let me be your last, your last first kiss.

Baby, tell me what to change.  
I'm afraid you'll run away if I tell you what I've wanted to tell you. _yeah_  
Maybe I just got to wait. Maybe this is a mistake.  
I'm a fool. _yeah_ Baby, I'm just a fool. _yeah_  
Oh, oh...

Girl, what would you do? Would you want to stay if I were to say... (verse repeats)

CHORUS


	3. Talk

It's been a long day for Tamaki; being sick is no fun at all. He's alone, cranky and bored out of his mind. The books on medieval history and chivalry that delighted him as a youngster, and delight him still, have been re-read cover to cover and lay tumbled in with the bed linens. A single touchier glows by the door as a popular anime plays on the big screen in one corner. Antoinette sleeps on the floor beside him, hering fluffy tail thumping every time the lump beneath the covers that is himself moves.

Maezono Shima, Chief Housekeeper for the second Suoh mansion, enters and scoffs at the untidy room. _Please just go away_ , Tamaki thinks, huddled under the layers of blankets. He hears her moving about, picking up clothing from the floor, laying them across the chaise, rustling his schoolbooks and assorted sheet music casually stored there. She draws the draperies closed and comes to the side of the bed closest to him. Antoinette sits up, tail wagging.

"Do you require anything Tamaki-sama?" she asks kindly, her usual tough exterior discarded in the face of her pupil's genuine distress.

"Just leave me alone…please." His voice is raspy.

"Ootori-sensei is sending over prescription medication. I'll bring it to you once it arrives."

"Whatever."

"Are you hungry?"

"Kami-sama, no."

"Very well. I'll check on you a bit later then."

"Shima-san?" Tamaki croaks out as she reaches the door. The elderly woman stops. "I want my phone."

"Your father has given me strict orders to keep it from you until your fever drops. Your friends cannot be allowed to disturb you."

"But I'm feeling better," he complains sitting up, only to lay back down again, a little dizzy.

"No point in trying to fool me, Tamaki-sama."

"What if I promise to play a special piece just for you once I'm back on my feet?" he cajoles. "You'd like that. The Gershwin?"

The crone has always had a soft spot for him. She heads back and pulls Tamaki's phone from an apron pocket. _Yess_. A hand snakes out from under the blankets.

"I'm taking this back when I check on you again so be sure you're done chatting by then."

"Thank you, Shima-san. You're the best."

"I know," she replies. Antoinette follows her to the door. "I'll let Antoinette out and bring her back later, as well." She exits.

Tamaki props up a mound of pillows behind him and leans back, cross-legged, Kuma-bear in his lap, head hooded by a quilt that drapes around his body. First checked are text messages: A.M. includes Kyoya - 3 times; Hitachiins - twice/simultaneously; Honey and Mori - once apiece; Renge - once; Haruhi: zip. _Zip?_ A crestfallen sigh escapes him. P.M. includes Kyoya - once plus 5 more in the last hour; Hitachiins - zip; Honey and Mori - zip; Renge - zip; Haruhi - once. _Finally._

He reads her message first: **Feel better senpai.** _That's it? Well, at least she's thinking about me._ Before he can read Kyoya's messages, his personalized ID sounds. Settling back into the pillows, Tamaki responds.

To Kyoya: **hey kyo**

From Kyoya: **How are you?**

To: **feel like shiite**

From: **Sorry.**

To: **how was ur mtg?**

From: **As expected.**

To: **rippd a new 1 huh?**

From: **Of course.**

To: **ur dad is an ass**

From: **Quite.**

To: **talk to Hri?**

From: **Yes.**

To: **&?**

From: **& what?**

To: **did it help?**

From: **A bit.**

To: **told u**

From: **You did.**

To: **hw in physics?**

From: **Prep for comps.**

To: **ok - hows Hri today?**

From: **What do you mean?**

To: **did dtr miss me?**

From: **Did not inquire.  
**

To: **guys there?**

From: **At some point.**

To: **wdym?**

From: **They left.**

To: **u were alone w Hri?**

From: **Please don't freak out.**

To: **ur mtg ended at 5 - how late did u stay?**

From: **6**

To: **5 to 6? alone w Hri?**

From: **You're overreacting.**

To: **not whn it comes to Hri**

From: **You said trust her.**

To: **so wht hpnd?**

To: **kyo?**

To: **pick up ur phone NOW**

Anxiety sits like a stone in his stomach as his index finger pounds the icon, scrolls and pounds again. Kyoya answers, attitude a little too nonchalant. "What is it?"

"Don't act all smooth with me. What happened?" he demands, a little panicked.

"You're not feeling well. Calm down or you'll make yourself more ill."

"How-can-you-tell-me-to-calm-down-when-you-were-al one-with-Haruhi-after-school-hours-in-the-salon-wi thout-supervision?" He inhales and exhales sharply.

"So you're going to rip me one, too?" Kyoya sounds annoyed.

"I'm sorry," he recants, only slightly calmer knowing he's jumping to conclusions. "But what kind of daddy would I be if I wasn't concerned that my daughter was alone with some guy in an isolated location after dark?"

"I'm hardly 'some guy.'"

"No matter. And don't lie to me." His eyes squint. "Did you try anything?"

"Define anything."

That sets him off. "Bastard. You better tell me exactly what went on today."

"Aren't you the voyeur? Seems we've been around this block before."

They have and his craziness was unjustified then, as well. "Please, Kyo," he says, mollified.

"Actually," Kyoya pauses and he's quieter. "I did want to speak with you."

Tamaki senses Kyoya's discomfort and it worries him. "Five texts in one hour suggests that."

"I wasn't expecting anyone to even be in the Music Room when I arrived, but Haruhi was there, studying. I really did not want to talk about the meeting with my parents either."

Ever concerned for his friend, he commiserates. "That bad?"

"Worse."

"What does he want now?" He hears Kyoya's deep sigh.

"I really don't know anymore. Better grades, better activities, better scores. Let's just say - an altogether better me since I'm not good enough as I am, _which_ he never fails to tell me."

"What about your mother?"

"You know she's afraid of my father's temper. I've always said she should have left him long ago, but I guess the perks were just too good."

"That's harsh."

"It's only the truth and she'd be the first to admit it." His disdain is clear. He pauses, then adds in a lowered voice that Tamaki has to strain to hear, "Know what the scariest thing of all is?"

"What Kyo?" Tamaki asks as gently as he can, knowing that self-revelation is not Kyoya's strong suit though he always manages to pierce the veil that his best friend hides behind. There is silence between them and Tamaki feels for him, knowing that Kyoya is battling for composure in the face of kindness, his openness a rare gift.

"I'm afraid that I'll become just like him - become the person I despise."

Tamaki wishes he could convince Kyoya that this is impossible, if only Kyoya would see that. "You won't," he says simply.

"You've seen my temper."

"Yeah," he says slowly, "and I know that it's more bark than bite."

"Please, Tamaki. Not another dog analogy. Ever since you got Antoinette, you're dog obsessed." His armor has been re-donned, all traces of vulnerability tucked away having been heard and reassured of his worth by someone whose opinion he values.

"Just because you're not a dog person doesn't mean the rest of us don't appreciate man's best friend," he sulks.

"Fine."

"You should get a pet."

"You have the most amazing way with non sequiturs. You know that?"

"Maybe you just can't keep up with my brilliant conversational connections." A moment of silence ensues before he hears Kyoya laughing on the other end. "Did I say something funny?" Tamaki asks, happy that his friend is happy. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging.

"Just shoot me."

"Wait a minute. You were telling me about Haruhi."

"Another brilliant conversational connection, I see. But yes, I was, wasn't I?"

Tamaki is calmer, but still suspicious. "Just spit it out, Ootori."

"Very well," Kyoya says on a sigh. "We were talking. One thing led to another and I kissed her." Dead silence fills the line, this time on Tamaki's side. "And that's all, Tamaki."

The words are startling to the blond, but not altogether unexpected. One doesn't spend years developing a friendship without being able to read that friend and to know that Kyoya reacts to Haruhi in a way he's never seen his friend react to anyone else, except himself. Kyoya hides it well and no one but he would be able to tell, but he can. What he doesn't understand is why it bothers him so much.

"Explain," he says off-kilter, not knowing how he feels.

"We were playing a game asking one another questions, me being my sardonic self and Haruhi being dead straightforward. I asked her if she'd ever kissed a boy and she said no."

"Isn't that one of your standard lines?"

"I do not believe that anything I do is standard, but yes, it's a question I ask our guests on occasion to assess their savvy on such matters. Haruhi, however, is not a guest. She's a fellow host and a friend. I simply wanted to further her education."

Tamaki wonders if eye-rolling is audible. "Kyoya..."

"I would think you'd be glad that Haruhi has the advantage of having male friends who can teach her how men think in relative safety."

"So how safe _is_ she with you? Daddy needs to know." It's a half-serious question that demands a serious answer.

"I would never hurt her, Tamaki. Or compromise her. I find Haruhi intriguing. I understand that you have feelings towards her, but I'm not above pursuing my own interests in the matter. I'm being upfront with you so you don't think I'm going behind your back."

Tamaki is quick to retort, "My feelings for Haruhi are strictly those of a loving parent."

"If you say so and you continually do. Therefore, you won't mind if I pursue _my_ interests…with your permission, of course."

"But you're her Mommy."

"So you say."

Tamaki is stuck for words, backed into a corner. He's flattered to be asked permission, but also confused. "So…closed lips or open?" _And please say it was a kiss on the cheek._

"Must you ask?"

"Don't be stingy. Share." _And please say it was a kiss on the cheek._

"Closed, at first."

Tamaki groans, reluctant to hear but desperate to know. He covers his eyes with one hand, reluctantly asking, "Un baiser amoureux?"

"Well, it wasn't a business transaction."

_Merde._ "I knew I should have come to school today."

"You have a fever, dumbass. What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I'm upset." He gives a shuddered sigh.

"That I kissed Haruhi, someone you claim you only care about as a daughter?"

Tamaki's filters are thinner than usual due to illness though speaking before thinking is not an uncommon event. "Why did it have to be you?"

"As opposed to who? The twins? That would go well, I'm sure. Mori? Honey? Not likely. Maybe a classmate or a perfect stranger?" He waits, then asks, "Or is there someone else you had in mind?"

"I just -" Tamaki stops, considering his words. He is concerned about the impact of two hosts possibly dating, but it's less about that and more about the impact on a certain friendship. "I don't want anything to come between _us_ ," he admits. _At least, that._

"Neither do I. You're my best friend so if this is going to create a problem, tell me now."

"No, Kyoya. It's fine. Haruhi has her own mind and feelings."

"I'm not worried about Haruhi. I'm wondering if you're okay with it?"

"I don't know, but as long as it doesn't affect the Host Club and our family, I- I think we can handle it."

"Do you? Because when it comes to getting what I want, I don't play."

"I guess that's the difference between us then. I always play."

"Then we agree that whatever happens, happens. We accept defeat with grace, as gentlemen."

"And friends."

"That is _always_ the bottom line, Tamaki. You know that."

"I do, though it's nice to hear you say it."

"Hmm. For someone who claims to have no interest in the girl other than as a friendly paternal figure, you seem awfully competitive."

"Because I am. Simply because I'm second in our class, Kyoya, doesn't mean I don't aim at being Number One. I just don't tackle it the same way you do."

"Think you can unseat me?"

"Hell yeah."

"That's cheeky considering I tutor you in calculus."

"And I tutor you in French."

"I study German."

"So? I still tutor you. Besides, Number Two always has the edge."

"Hmph."

"Think about it. I only have to worry about you. You have to worry about everyone. Evens up the odds, don't you think?"

"For someone who's an idiot, you really are rather sharp." Tamaki smiles, pleased with himself.

"Ahh, idiocy. My secret weapon."

"If you're telling me about it, it's not a secret now, is it?"

"Or is it?"

Kyoya stops to consider the argument, then surrenders. "Touché, mon ami."

"Kyoya?"

"What?"

"Is this going to make things weird after school?"

"Things are already weird after school or hadn't you noticed? And though I've considered the potential of a mock feud drawing more guests to the club, a genuine feud might prove to be detrimental over the long haul. So, no, things will not be any more weird than they already are as long as the Hitachiins don't find out. They will inevitably create a stir."

"You're not concerned about Mori-senpai or Honey-senpai?"

"Not in the least. Their contact with the club is limited with graduation upcoming and university thereafter."

"Okay. I'm down with that."

"Missed seeing you today." Tamaki's spirits lift at the endearment.

"Same here."

"I have a second set of notes from our mutual classes so if you need help catching up, I'll work with you."

"Maybe over the weekend." He yawns.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Bye Kyo."

"Good night, Tamaki."

The phone disconnects. Tamaki stares at the screen or, to be more precise, Haruhi's number. He's tempted to call, to clarify what happened but even he knows he can't breach her privacy. _Maybe a text?_

To Haruhi: **sme. r u ok? im here 4 u**

He stops before sending, locks and turns the device off altogether, slouching down into the pillows against the headboard. _Of course she's ok. Why wouldn't she be? Kyoya is a good person who deserves happiness. Why should I object?_

His thoughts are interrupted by several raps on his bedroom door just before it opens. Antoinette snuffles at the crack and pushes it further open with her snout. Shima enters and without a word, walks over to the bedside and extends an upturned palm. Tamaki surrenders the device. The crone replaces it with a thermometer and pockets the phone.

She waits as Tamaki holds it in his mouth for five seconds. It beeps and he hands it back to her. "Your temperature has dropped, but not enough for you to go back to school. Swallow these, please." She waits until Tamaki has ingested the three tablets she offers and half empties a water bottle.

"What did I just take?"

"An antibiotic with something to reduce your fever and to help you sleep. And really, Master Tamaki, the time to ask about pills is before you take them, not after." She gives him a you-should-know-better look.

"I trust you."

"You trust everyone and that is part of your problem. You need to be more discerning of people's intentions, but you continue to see only the best in them."

"What's wrong with that?"

"You must remember that a person in your position will have many around you who will falsely smile in your face then stab you in back."

"Not friends."

"One would hope not though I've seen otherwise in my lifetime."

"Can we talk-" Tamaki yawns bigger than before. "Another time?"

"Of course. I apologize for troubling you with this now." She lowers the volume and dims the brightness of the television but leaves it on. Tamaki doesn't like being in the dark by himself. After she leaves, Antoinette circles the carpet beside the bed several times before settling down, laying her head across her paws.

He tucks Kuma-bear into his lap and another pillow between his knees, shifting until he's comfortable. He's conscious of the way the hypnotic is penetrating his system, sending fingers of relaxation throughout his aching body. He's tired but the image of Kyoya and Haruhi in an embrace haunts him. It was clearly something they both wanted or it wouldn't have happened. His over-active imagination and romantic nature begin to spin how it might have happened despite the logical side of his brain telling him to stop. But he can't help it. Tamaki's inner theater of the mind is now in full swing….

…Kyoya is dressed as a medieval nobleman, sable lined cloak falling open to his knees over a belted and scandalously short jacquard doublet and fitted hose. He looks good though the eyeglasses and notebook detract from the overall effect. He dangles an oversized pocket watch in front of Haruhi, who looks very cute in a surcot of green velvet over an ivory brocade dress with pointed sleeves, her hair long and plaited with jewels. All at once she is powerless to resist Kyoya's advances. Organ music sounds.

Just then, Tamaki bursts into the salon-slash-castle turret in full silver armor upon a white palfrey. Sparkles float around him. "Unhand the fair maiden Haruhi, Sir Kyoya," he demands before leaning forward and lifting Haruhi onto the saddle in front of him before they clatter through the salon and jump through one of the large windows, shattering glass that rains down on the astonished Kyoya who raises his fist in the air shouting, "I challenge you to a joust a plaisance, Sir Tamaki, for the honor of the Lady Haruhi."

Theatre of the mind morphs into dream with an illogical cut to the next day's tournament. Striped round tents dot a green field, colorful banners swaying and penons fluttering in the wind. The viewing stands are full of people making crowd-like noises. The Lady Haruhi waits there with her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Renge and Lady Ranka. French tourney rules dictate that Haruhi's favors go to the victor.

Sir Kyoya waits at one end of the list and tilt, armored in dark mail and astride a chestnut destrier as his bachelors-at-arms, Sirs Kaoru and Hikaru, stand at the ready behind him, arms crossed over their chests, looking fierce -ish. Tamaki rides a black charger. He looks behind him to see if he has back up and, sure enough, there wait Sirs Honey and Mori. Tamaki gives them a decisive nod which they return. He wonders if wearing armor impedes their martial arts ability, just in case.

The chevalier d'honneur steps forward and, lo and behold, it's Sir Ritsu looking dapper in form-fitted breeches, waistcoat with slashed sleeves and a fine feathered hat. He raises his arms and points to the challengers. In his best Michael Buffer imitation he shouts, "Ladies and Gentlemen…llllet's get ready to rummmmbllle!" then jumps backwards as the horses charge towards one another.

The ground trembles from the heavy hoof beats, both knights leaning forward, lances balanced in the rests, their aim to unseat the other without causing mortal injury. The harsh clang of metal on metal vibrates the air and though contact is made by both contestants, neither is unseated.

They turn and wait to recover breath before the second run. Sir Kyoya's advantage is knowing when to strike; Sir Tamaki's in knowing where. Both can be fatal. The knights charge once more, courage unflagging as they head into danger. The clash of weapons sounds again. This time, Sir Kyoya is unseated and thrown to the ground. Sir Tamaki brings his horse to a stop and dismounts, prepared to battle on foot.

But something is amiss. Kyoya isn't moving. The twins rush to see what's wrong. Hikaru pulls Kyoya into a seated position as Kaoru drops to his knees behind the fallen knight supporting his back against his thighs. Hikaru removes Kyoya's helmet, breastplate and gauntlets. The bloody wound to his heart is visible even at a distance.

Tamaki is frozen in place, uncertain of what to do. He removes his helmet and looks over at Haruhi who watches, her expression unreadable. Mori and Honey stand close by, faces sad. He looks back to Kyoya, who winces in pain. The tourney is Tamaki's for the taking, but he cannot claim victory. Not this way. Not at Kyoya's expense. The helmet falls to the ground along with a pair of discarded gloves. Tamaki turns and runs to where Kyoya lay, dropping to his knees beside the slightly older boy. Kyoya sees him and tries to smile. "Who knew?" he says, grabbing one of Tamaki's hands in his own before closing his eyes.

"Kyoya?" he queries once, grasping the hand growing cold within his own. He leans over, his lips beside Kyoya's ear as he speaks softly, "Kyoya, don't leave me. Please. I need you. I don't want to be alone again." He pulls away and looks at the pale face of his friend. It seems too late, but perhaps there is still hope. He leans in and kisses Kyoya's forehead. The brunet lifts his face and the blond kisses his mouth. They embrace in a passionate clutch. Everything blurs as...

Tamaki's eyes fly open and he sits up with a start, groggy from the sleeping meds, but lucid. He's covered in sweat, his fever broken, pajamas sticking to his skin. He runs a hand through damp hair, breathing heavily, the strangeness of dream-state still upon him in the near darkness.

He falls backwards into the pillows and stares at the ceiling. "What the hell?" he whispers to himself, troubled by the dream's violence and suggestiveness. Yet even more distressing is the fact that he's aroused, the front of his pajama pants moist with pre-cum. He peels off the garments and kicks them to the bottom of the bed, beneath the covers. _What does it mean? I do love Kyoya, but do I love him that way? Unh-can't think. Tired._ The sheets feel soft against his skin and he reaches down to grab his half-erect cock, palming himself until the sensation of low-level pleasure mixed with fatigue lulls him back into sleep.

And it is in that surreal space between reality and dream, when neither world holds complete sway and the subconscious is most accessible that a singular thought takes hold in his mind. Tamaki _is_ jealous. Only, it isn't of Kyoya pursuing Haruhi, but of Haruhi pursuing Kyoya.

On the floor beside him, Antoinette sighs.

End - Chapter 3 - Talk

* * *

Talk \- Coldplay [Kyoya & Tamaki-centric]

Oh, brother, I can't - I can't get through.  
I've been trying hard to reach you 'cause I don't know what to do.  
Oh, brother, I can't believe it's true.  
I'm so scared about the future and I want to talk to you.  
Oh, I want to talk to you.

You can take a picture of something you see.  
In the future, where will I be?  
You can climb a ladder up to the sun.  
Or write a song nobody has sung.  
Or do something that's never been done.

Are you lost or incomplete?  
Do you feel like a puzzle; you can't find your missing piece?  
Tell me, how do you feel?  
Well, I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak and they're talking it to me.

So you take a picture of something you see.  
In the future, where will I be?  
You can climb a ladder up to the sun.  
Or write a song nobody has sung.  
Or do something that's never been done. (2x)

So you don't know where you're going and you want to talk.  
And you feel like you're going where you've been before.  
You'll tell anyone who'll listen but you feel ignored.  
And nothing's really making any sense at all.

Let's talk. (4x)


	4. Look But Don't Touch

Snow has been falling on and off for the last three days, mounting in height until the entire Ouran campus was shut down - a rarity for both the school and the City of Tokyo. Today is the first day back in full session and not even five minutes after she's stepped out of bed, she hears Tamaki's text ID. _Why, oh why, did I ever tell him what time I wake up in the morning?_ She checks the message:

 **From Tamaki:** Gd Mrng, Prncess! Hope u slpt well. Pls cm 2 HC 2day preprd to dress 4 fun n th gr8 outdrs.

 _Really?_ Haruhi loved playing in the snow as a little girl, but nowadays it holds less appeal. She rummages through her dresser for suitable clothing and finds she really doesn't have much in the way of outdoor gear. _It'll have to do._ The Hitachiins always seem to bring extra garments anyway, created no doubt, especially for the club. _Maybe I should start asking if I can keep the wardrobe._ She thinks about some of the crazier cosplay outfits she's had to wear throughout her first host year. _Then again, maybe not._

She packs her things into a duffel bag and heads to school. From her window seat on the public bus, Haruhi notices the wet streets, the mounds of dirty snow piled along the curbsides and the ice-crusted store signs that mark winter urban life. She disembarks two blocks from campus and hikes the rest of the way.

As she approaches Ouran, she notices a strange phenomenon: the walks are completely clean and dry, flanked by razor-edged snow that is pristine. The grassy patches sport foot high even accumulations and every tree and shrub is dusted to perfection with fluffy tufts of white that sparkle in the weak sunlight. To top everything off, huge glassy icicles hang from every building's eaves.

_No wonder tuition is ridiculous._

She gets to her first class and is promptly accosted by the twins.

"Was it terrible for you, Haruhi?" Hikaru asks.

"We heard that the city was immobilized for two days. We wondered if you had enough to eat," Kaoru adds.

"You do remember where I live. It's not Siberia." Their chat is curtailed by class being called to order.

They continue to pester her at lunch, trying to feed her tasty treats from their expensively stocked o-bento boxes, and otherwise making themselves annoying. They're sweet and mischievous and up to something.

She arrives at the salon at precisely 3:15 and heads to the dressing room. The guests have been instructed to arrive at four. She looks for the duffel bag she left here earlier in the day, but it's gone. She checks throughout the prep room, but it's nowhere to be seen. _Now what?_

The hosts arrive, singly or in pairs. They're boisterous when they first enter, letting off steam after being self-controlled in class all day. She's gotten used to the shouting and swearing they never show their guests and the horseplay that borders on demonic possession. She heads into the outer room where, of course, Honey and Mori are squaring off as Kyoya referees. Tamaki is lounging on a sofa playing with his smartphone. The twins are not around…until they are.

"We're here!" they announce together, entering with garment bags slung over their shoulders.

"What's in the bags?" Tamaki asks, sitting upright.

"A surprise for Haruhi," Hikaru says, though he sounds somewhat smug. Her blood runs cold. _Better head this off right now._

She marches up to them. "You were the ones who stole my duffel, weren't you?"

"A duffel?" Hikaru repeats. "Kaoru, do you recall seeing a duffel bag anywhere?"

"Not me," Kaoru replies, looking innocent.

"Just tell me where it is and nobody gets hurt," she threatens, pinning Kaoru with her eyes, knowing he'll relent far sooner than his brother.

A low murmur runs through the room.

"Haruhi, we just wanted to make sure you had a nice outfit for today," Kaoru admits. "We've been good so we took some things from our mother's showroom."

"Just a few," Hikaru says. "You promised, remember? You'll look cute."

"I don't need to look cute."

"But of course you do," Tamaki intervenes, sauntering over to them. "You are already amazingly cute, Haruhi, but even a peacock needs plumage. Just go inside and try on what the twins have brought for you. We'll give you an honest opinion."

"You know we won't stop bugging you until you do, Haruhi," Kaoru warns.

"Oh, alright," she says in surrender. _The things I do for friends._ She takes the two garment bags and heads into the dressing area, pulling the curtain shut.

She unzips the first bag. _Wait a minute. Is this a dress or a sweater?_ She unzips the second bag and groans. _They've got to be kidding._ Three months prior, Haruhi made a deal with the twins: they keep their hands to themselves as much as possible for a month and she'll try on an outfit from their mother's collection. She never pays attention to what they bring but, lately, their choices seem a bit much although the pieces are always well-made and to her proportions. She slips on the footwear, then notices the accessories at the bottom of the bag. She looks at herself in the mirror and doesn't recognize the person she sees. "I'm not wearing this!" she shouts.

"Show us!" shout back the twins.

"Haru-chan, we want to see how cute you look," Honey entices.

"Of course she looks cute," Tamaki says. "She always does. Haruhi is the essence of cute. She is-" He stops short, his chin dropping as Haruhi emerges into the room.

The boyish girl has matured a bit in the last year. She not only has a figure, but curves. The charcoal knit sweater dress caresses her body with long sleeves and a funnel neckline; it fits like a glove. A Valentine's themed pattern of red and black intarsia hearts rise and fall across small but definitely-there breasts. Beneath the mini are form-fitted leggings that give the appearance of skin as they disappear into thigh-high black leather boots. On her head is a crimson mink beret and a pair of sleek black-wire sunglasses.

"Can we take you home with us, please?" Hikaru begs.

"I second," Kaoru agrees.

"You look amazing," Honey compliments.

"Hnn-nnn," says Mori adding an extra syllable to his vocabulary.

Tamaki is nearly as red as Haruhi's beret and Kyoya - he's poised mid-keystroke, head turned away from the laptop and staring, pushing up his glasses and holding them in place so they don't slip and he can cover his expression, as well.

"I am not wearing this," Harauhi says in a voice she means to sound definitive. It does, but in quite a different way.

Tamaki blushes deeper, his hand over his mouth. Honey and Mori look away. The twins chuckle and melt into one another and Kyoya slumps back in his chair, fingers slipping from the keyboard altogether. Haruhi looks from one to the other, a little confused. It isn't until she sees Kyoya's expression that she sees herself as he sees her - the image in the mirror that she didn't recognize. _That girl is what the guys would call 'hot.' And then I suggested… "_ Ohhhh…" she cries and flees. Five heads tip to the side to watch Haruhi as she retreats, revealing new curves. Just not Tamaki's, who glowers at the rest of them.

She sits on the small chair in the dressing area, head in her hands, mortified. And angry - with the twins and with herself. She hears the guests arriving. _I will get even, Hitachiins._ Her duffel has somehow found its way to just outside the curtain and she grabs it, exchanging the haute couture for a plain pair of jeans, black cotton turtleneck and grey hoodie. Thick socks and trek boots finish things. And, of course, the Ouran overcoat and thick scarf that everyone wears. Looking in the mirror, she recognizes herself again and sighs.

She emerges and her regulars swarm about her, making her feel better. Everyone is in high spirits and they head en masse outdoors. Unlike the paved areas, the maze is left relatively natural, snow tramped down by foot. Twilight is falling but floodlights illuminate, casting strong shadows in the boxwoods and flowerless rose shrubs. Teams are decided and staging areas chosen. Haruhi and the girls start amassing snowballs. The guests are non-targets except for gentle lobs just so the defending host can 1) defend them and 2) brush snow romantically off of them. There's also opportunities for sharing scarves and pockets for warming hands.

Haruhi's team is pretty good. All the girls have brothers and have learned the fine art of creating a hard-packed snowball. They win a few rounds, according to referee Kyoya, naturally, who declines participation and prohibits any hits to himself with a wag of his index finger when Mori lands one on his hip. Organized mayhem quickly escalates to general mayhem as the twins decide that Tamaki is their one and only target, leading Mori and Honey into the fray until the blond is on the ground being pelted with continuous snowballs from every participant from every angle.

Haruhi feels badly about that and refuses to join in. She sees Kyoya standing at the entrance to the maze. Their exchanges over the last few weeks have been cordial, but she always senses an undercurrent. She walks over and stands beside him, watching the melee ongoing among the shrubbery. Tamaki has escaped and now everyone is chasing everyone. "He's difficult to ignore, isn't he?"

"Spontaneous to a fault," Kyoya responds, smiling as he watches the scene.

"What about you? Are you never spontaneous?"

"I think you know better than that." He doesn't look at her. _Okay, then._

With Kyoya deliberately keeping her at a distance, Haruhi quietly steps back and gathers a handful of snow, cupping it between her gloved hands to create a solid mass just as her otousan taught her years ago. She then executes "The Fujioka." Coming up behind Kyoya, she points to the far side of the maze where people dart in and out of sight and shouts, "Look at that!" When Kyoya's attention is focused on where she's pointed, she steps in and shoves the snowball down the front of his coat and runs.

"Haruhi!" he yells. She dashes towards the others, but only gains a few yards before being grabbed by the back of her coat, causing both of them to stumble onto the snowy ground. She scrabbles to escape, but Kyoya catches her. She rolls to face him as he kneels over her, pinning her lightly with one hand. She doesn't resist, but just looks at him and the huge fistful of snow he has in his other hand. _He won't do it._ But he does. The snow is mashed on her head. She sputters and haphazardly grabs snow with her hands, throwing it back at him in wild arcs. He deflects with one hand while scooping more snow with the other. Haruhi holds up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Do you want this?" he asks, a devious smile on his face as he hovers over her.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

The devious smile turns playful. "To what else might you be referring?"

"To what else do you want me to refer?" He considers her before speaking again.

"It would seem we are ever engaged in a parry of words."

"I call it smart flirting," she says simply.

"So do I."

"Is it working?"

"I would have to concede."

"Good," she says sotto voce before inhaling and exhaling fully. They remain in place, non-verbal communication the best method to trigger the rush of body memory of their recent encounter.

"Haruhi," Kyoya begins. "Would you…"

"Hey, Kyoya!" Tamaki yells, trotting towards them, covered in snow from head to toe. He slows as he nears, looking from one to the other. Haruhi realizes that both she and Kyoya are in postures that are not typical for them. _Busted for the second time today._ Kyoya stands and extends a hand towards her. She takes it and he pulls her to her feet, dusting snow from her hair and coat. Only it's host to host and that makes it different, especially when she looks up into his eyes and sees humor there. _Now there's something I've never noticed before._

"Haruhi," Tamaki says, stepping in between them. "Is this chump bothering you?" he asks with a thumb aimed at Kyoya.

"I can handle it," she replies with a furtive glance at the dark-haired young man whose face is, once again, an unreadable mask. Tamaki's eyes again flick from her to Kyoya and back, a look of consternation coming over him.

Kyoya clears his throat. "I believe it's time to return inside, Tamaki. Our guests must be cold and could use a cup of hot cocoa, don't you think?"

Tamaki is, at once, conscious of his princely role. "Oh, yes, of course." He heads back into the maze, calling for everyone to join him. The group heads back, Haruhi walking quietly beside Kyoya, hoping he'll finish the question he began earlier, though he doesn't.

Coats, scarves and gloves drip from the temporary clothing rack set up in the salon. The hosts are busy serving hot cocoa and warming cold hands between their own. The guests are tired but happy, their appetites temporarily quelled in more ways than one.

Haruhi sits among three of her regulars who are engrossed in a conversation about the Edo era and whether or not their favorite anime character is a good or a bad person because he's killed so many men as a paid assassin.

"What do you think, Haruhi?" asks Chiyo her brown eyes bright and fixed on the natural host.

"I suppose I'd have to say that it depends on the situation. One shouldn't judge a book by its cover, after all." She's facing the table where Honey-senpei sits within earshot, being fed strawberries by hand by his favorite ladies. The pint-sized blond turns his heard towards her and smiles, clearly amused by the irony of her statement.

Haruhi shrugs her shoulders. Mariko raises the issue of what makes an life honorable while Takara argues that sometimes crossing a line is a necessary part of growing up.

"But how old do you think a person should be before crossing a line?" Chiyo throws out, always the one to push their dialogue to new ground.

"For what?" Mariko queries.

"New experiences of the heart."

"You mean…love?"

"Love and sex," Takara adds definitively, causing the other girls to blush and shush her.

"Don't say such things, Takara," Mariko chastises, her face red.

"Why not? It's the 21st century."

Chiyo explains, as if she's a million years older than the 2nd-year instead of just one, "Well, yes, but you don't talk about it in mixed company" she says with a nod of her head towards Haruhi.

Takara replies, "It's only Haru-kun. Honestly," she says turning towards said namesake, "I feel like I can tell you anything and you just… understand." _If you only knew why._

"I do my best," Haruhi demurs.

"So what do you think?" Takara presses as all the girls stare at Haruhi, waiting. Takara and Mariko are 2nd-years, Chiyo a 3rd-year. They're all infatuated with Haruhi and have made "him" their pet project, convinced that the 1st-year host is in need of education about love. They've already slipped detailed pencil diagrams of female anatomy into his pocket with arrows and modest explanations, along with love poems and notes.

Haruhi hasn't initiated physical contact with any guest, outside of ballroom dancing, despite Tamaki's urgings. "An innocent hug or a chaste kiss now and again is considered de rigueur," he's told her. She's just not so inclined which leads her to wonder how the other hosts view their flirtations. She glances to where Kyoya stands to one side of the floor, notebook in hand, pen moving steadily. As if on cue, he looks up and their eyes meet. She doesn't look away as she might have in the past, and neither does he. _Such a puzzle._

"…a person be before losing their virginity?" Chiyo is asking.

"Huh?" Haruhi replies, refocusing on the girls.

"Haruhi," Mariko chides, "you're not paying attention and this is important."

"Sorry. How old? Ummmm, I think it's an individual decision, but you should feel ready for it."

"Right," Takara agrees. "So it doesn't matter if you're fifteen or twenty. If you're ready, you're ready."

"Fifteen is pretty young," Haruhi says.

"How old are you?" asks Chiyo in a teasing manner.

"Fifteen," she admits with a small laugh, "though I'll be sixteen in a week or so."

"Oh my gosh," Mariko bubbles. "Really? Oh, when?"

Takara gushes, "We'll make something special for you that day!"

"It's February 4th," Haruhi says, wishing she hadn't said anything.

Chiyo holds up a hand. "Ladies, we have a week to prepare and," she adds to Haruhi, "being falsely modest and refusing us our enjoyment would go against what Host Club is all about. We are your guests, after all." Haruhi sighs.

Kyoya sounds the singing bowl tone that announces the end of session and the guests leave. Haruhi enters the prep room and grabs the big tray, returning to the outer room to stack china and silverware until she can't carry any more. At the prep sink, she washes, dries and stores every item. She's nearly done when she feels _them_ enter and stand behind her.

"Haruhi," Tamaki starts.

"Don't say it," she warns.

"What do you mean don't say it? How can you possibly think that we, your special family, could ignore the fact that your birthday is about to occur and you haven't given a clue as to what we can do to celebrate or to give you as a gift. As your otousan, I demand an explanation."

Haruhi dries her hands on the bottom of her apron and turns, pressing her back against the countertop as she regards the young men in front of her. "It's not necessary to do anything at all, senpai. I don't need it and I don't want it. Maybe it's a big deal for you but it's never been for me and that's just fine. Please don't fuss about it." She removes the apron and walks forward.

"But, but-" Tamaki protests as she approaches. She turns when she reaches him, looking up into his face.

"I'm warning you," she insists pressing a finger into his chest with each following word. "No. Fuss." She gathers her things together, bids them goodnight and leaves.

"Boss," Hikaru starts once she's gone. "What are we going to do?"

"We can't ignore Haruhi's birthday," Kaoru follows.

"Haruhi's going to be sixteen," Honey states.

The twins look at one another with sudden realization. "She's not off limits!" Hikaru says to his twin.

"Sixteen," Mori says.

Tamaki demands, "What are you talking about?"

Karou explains. "It's a fact. Sixteen is generally accepted as the average age for inter-adolescent first-time sex worldwide."

Hikaru hangs his arm around his brother's neck and coos into his ear, "Except for us." Kaoru strokes his brother's cheek before they turn to regard their blond leader who is staring at them with a look of horror and disbelief.

"And where exactly is that a fact, Kaoru?" Kyoya enters the conversation at the mention of statistical data and having gauged that Tamaki's blood pressure is approaching dangerous levels.

"The internet," they answer.

"Of course. And while there is a great deal of information regarding sex online, much of it is raw data or limited data or pre-digested data making valid conclusions drawn from such data suspect at best."

"You're so sexy, senpai," Hikaru jibes.

"Born this way," the brunet retorts without affect.

"Checkin' out raw data, huh?" Kaoru grins with a sideways glance at the older boy. Kyoya elegantly flips the bird at him.

"Any time," comes the joint response. He groans.

"Nobody touches Haruhi!" Honey interrupts in a firm voice and they all stare at him. He stands with his hands on his hips, Mori directly behind him in similar posture. They both look quite serious. Kyoya pushes back his glasses and says nothing.

"We're just kidding," Kaoru states.

"We are?" Hikaru turns to his twin, disappointment on his face.

"Two's company…" Kaoru begins.

"But three's more fun," Hikaru finishes. Kaoru slaps his cheek gently.

"I love it when you're rough."

Kaoru sighs. "Time to go home."

While this exchange is ongoing, Tamaki has retreated into a corner, crouched into a ball of melancholy.

Honey asks, "Is he going to be alright?"

"Well," Kyoya says tipping his head towards the blond, "I don't think Tamaki has ever really given much thought to Haruhi's age seeing her, as he does, as a child in need of protection. However," he pauses and glares at the twins, "And despite whatever perverse notions the Hitachiin brothers may harbor, sixteen _is_ a significant rite of passage for many teens in many ways. We would indeed be remiss if we didn't do something to celebrate such an auspicious occasion."

"But she said no fuss," Honey reminds.

"No fuss to Haruhi may simply mean no extravagant celebration from us. However, I've already spoken to Fujioka-san and he's all about celebrating."

Honey throws Usa-chan into the air and catches it several times. "Celebrate! Celebrate!"

"So what do we do?" the twins ask, chastened by Honey and Mori's disapproval and Kyoya's ire.

"I will obtain details and keep you apprised. In the meanwhile, it's not for me to say that you cannot get her a gift to honor her special day."

The twins start discussing immediately, arms wrapped around one another's shoulders. "Massive mp3 downloads on us…a music system with wifi headphones…a day spent with us buying it." They high five on the last idea and shout, "Brilliant!"

Kyoya shakes his head with a soft grunt, glancing over at Tamaki, still crouched in the corner tracing something on the floor with his finger. He moves closer and notices that it's a heart - over and over and over. Honey and Mori don coats, say goodbye and leave followed by the twins. Kyoya settles on a chair close to his friend and watches the sulk for a minute.

"Are you going to pout all night?"

"This is bad, Kyoya," Tamaki says without looking up.

"What is? Haruhi turning sixteen?"

"No."

"Then what?"

The blond lifts his eyes, not even knowing where to begin.

End - Chapter 4 - Look But Don't Touch

* * *

Look But Don't Touch \- Juliet Shatkin [Haruhi-centric]

I know you're watching when you see me walking down the hall.  
Don't get to close to me 'cause, baby boy, I'll make you fall.  
The bell rings at a quarter to four and everybody comes back for more.  
I know I'm driving you totally insane, but boys you got to hear what I'm saying.

You can look, but don't touch. (2x)  
You know you're asking for too much, so you can look but, boy, you can't touch.

I see you staring as I'm rolling up and down the block.  
Your jaw dropping on the floor 'cause baby you're in shock.  
I don't mind if you think I'm cute, but didn't your mama teach you not to be rude?  
I don't know exactly what you expect if you're not giving up no respect.

You can look, but don't touch. (2x)  
You know you're asking for too much, so you can look but, boy, you can't touch.

I hear you talking when I'm walking down the hallway.  
Just keep your comments to yourself and we'll be okay.  
I'm not the kind of girl that needs your attention  
'cause certain things are better off not mentioned.

You can look, but don't touch. (Refrain repeat to end)  
You know you're asking for too much, so you can look but, boy, you can't touch.


	5. Choke

A single question burns in Tamaki's brain. _Is this how it feels to be in love for real?_ Being in love for fun is his everyday hobby, but this is different. The night of the first dream is followed by others in steady succession. Always about Kyoya. Always provocative. He's happy, scared, absent-minded, worried and exhausted from thinking, thinking, thinking; to say nothing of satisfying his needs just as often. He's just about made up his mind to stifle it all, but Kyoya is waiting patiently for an answer to a legitimate question. _But Haruhi's birthday must be top priority. Backpedaling is GO!_

He stands and squares his shoulders, pulling himself together in a princely fashion. "What's bad" he finally says bolstered by his commitment to Haruhi, "is one: I didn't realize her birthday was so close; two: I haven't done a single thing to prepare and three:" His voice quivers a bit. "My little girl is growing up and I don't think I can handle it." _Especially the idea of her being with you and you being with her._

Kyoya shakes his head at his friend. "Give me your phone," he softly demands.

"Why?"

"Just _give_ it to me, please." Tamaki surrenders it and Kyoya quickly punches in some data and hands it back. "If you wish to speak with Haruhi's father, his number is now in your contacts."

The blond looks at the brunet with fearful eyes. "He doesn't like me. He'll hang up."

"Only if you act like an idiot. Just call the man. And if you need some liquid courage, I can accommodate."

"Kirin or Asahi?

"Kirin - your favorite."

"Get the car," Tamaki agrees thinking only slightly ahead.

They walk side by side, Tamaki's brain in overdrive. _Haruhi is growing up._ And from the way Kyoya's eyes lit up when he saw her in that dress, she might just as well have been a lovely stack of gold bearer bonds. _They watch each other when the other isn't looking and worse than that, when their eyes did meet today..._ He wishes Kyoya looked at him that way. _I can't be the only one who sees it, but seems like I'm the only one upset by it. I'm an awful person. I should be happy for them._

Outside, it's frigid and dark though still early evening. It's Friday and campus has emptied for the weekend. Kyoya's head is bent, breathing through layers of scarf as he checks his Nikkei app. Tamaki takes a quick peek at the scrolling numbers and symbols. _Buying and selling, bulls and bears. I just don't get it. Chopin, Beethoven - that makes sense._ He turns and walks a few feet away, feet kicking at the snow piled against the stairs, gloved hands dusting it off the branches of a nearby pine tree then watching it with delight as it flutters in glittery waves under the school's xenon floodlights.

S _hould I tell him? He'll understand. What do you think, Kyo? Oh, right. You-can't-tell-me-how-to-tell-you-what-I-can't-tel l-you-but-want-to-tell-you…_ He sighs aloud, causing Kyoya to look up and over at him, then back to his phone. _Which is that your probably-gay best friend is falling in love with you while you fall in love with the girl_ _your_ _best friend adores, though only as a friend._ He'll definitely need liquid courage for the ride.

The Ootori SUV pulls up and they get in, messenger bags shoved onto the rear deck. Kyoya leans forward and tells his chauffeur, "Just drive." He unravels his scarf and untoggles his duffel coat in the heated car, sloughing both before pulling two beers from the cooler and handing one to Tamaki. The blond finishes his off in short order, hastening his buzz. Kyoya lingers, maintaining a slippery hold on the glass neck and his faculties as he sinks into intoxication.

"Have another," Kyoya says. "You look like you need it. And take off your coat."

Hearing Kyoya ask him to take off anything sends a spark arcing through him. Tamaki doesn't argue, doffing the garment and opening another bottle. He takes a long swallow. He's easily unhinged, but he does need it. His breath is already a little shallow and his pulse has kicked up a notch. Kyoya turns on the music system, preset to a channel that plays what he likes. He slouches back into the seat, staring out the window, bottle neck between his fingers, base resting on his thigh.

The limo enters the highway headed towards Mt. Fuji though they'll loop back at some point. They do this on Fridays only, letting the stress of school, family, friends and enemies slip away via the amber brew and nothing more. Tamaki already feels light-headed, but is grateful for the way it quiets the chatter in his head. Kyoya sits in a meditative state, tranquility enhanced by alcohol.

Under cover of shadow, Tamaki admires Kyoya's patrician features, the ikemen-without-trying air he carries, and his intelligence which often scares people, but which Tamaki finds reassuring. The brunet's thoughts are elsewhere but then he sees a subtle smile play across his mouth. "You're thinking about Haruhi, aren't you?"

Kyoya's head turns towards him. "Perhaps."

"C'mon, Kyo. Are you thinking about her?"

"Yes, actually."

"You've had girlfriends before." _And I haven't.  
_

Kyoya chuffs and lifts his bottle to his mouth. Tamaki watches in fascination the way his lips caress the bottle's rim, liquid sliding against them leaving a trace of moisture there as he finishes it off and drops his hand. Tamaki's tongue touches his own upper lip wanting to taste him, the tug at his groin eliciting a soft sound at the back of his throat. Kyoya stows the empty and leans back once more, wrists crossed over one another at the top of his head as he stares ahead. "Rumi was just a middle school crush." He pauses, remembering. "Now, Momiji. She was crazy."

"Was that the college girl?"

"Total predator." Kyoya's self-satisfied expression tells Tamaki that, yeah, he learned a lot from her.

"So…did you?"

Kyoya leans towards him and lowers his voice so the driver doesn't hear him, "I woulda told you, just as you'll tell me when you're not a virgin anymore." Tamaki hears the subtle loosening of diction and open disclosure signaling that Kyoya has begun to let his guard down.

"W-what makes you think still I'm a virgin?"

"You woulda said something by now." _Probably, but it's cheeky to say so._

"You think I can't keep a secret?"

"Oh, you can keep a secret, Tam, just not from me."

"Ditto," Tamaki remarks with impudence.

"Ditto?" Kyoya mimics and reaches over with his free hand to push at Tamaki's shoulder, except his aim is skewed so his hand misses the shoulder and lands on Tamaki's upper arm. It's a platonic move, but Tamaki sits up straighter, surprised by the way the easy contact sends a subtle thrill through him. Everything is different now.

"Are we going to do this?" Kyoya asks, pulling his hand away to push at his glasses. Tamaki tics at the question. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle. Are you going to call Fujioka-san? That's the plan, isn't it?"

"Oh," Tamaki says as if he'd forgotten. "Right." Tamaki pulls his phone from his blazer pocket.

"Maybe you should sit back?" Kyoya suggests in a relaxed voice. "I'll coach you. Just play it off, Tamaki. You know how to do that." Tamaki hears the unintended double-entendre; feels the way it makes him twitch.

"And put it on speaker so I can hear, too." Tamaki dials the number with one hand as Kyoya rolls up the privacy divider and deadens the music. The phone's ringing fills the space between them.

"Hul-lo-o!" Ranka's voice is instantly recognizable.

"Fujioka-sama? This is Suoh Tamaki."

"Oh." Ranka's disappointment is clear. "What do _you_ want?" Tamaki looks at Kyoya, who leans forward and presses him with his eyes.

"I was hoping we could discuss Haru-chan's birthday."

"Really?" Ranka's interest is piqued.

"Yes…sir." Kyoya nods at him.

"Hmmm. I appreciate your interest, but everything's been arranged. After all, it is my little girl's birthday." Ranka's conversational style is a little like a song half-sung - lots of musical tones but no melody. Tamaki cringes every now and again, the irregular pitches grating on his trained musical ears, but no matter.

"Yes, sir. May I-"

"And nothing is too good for my princess." The word perks up Tamaki's ears. _Maybe we actually have something in common?_

"Y-yes, sir. If I-" Kyoya puts up two fists in front of himself with a grimace, goading Tamaki to get tough.

"She's such a wonderful daughter - so sweet, so conscientious."

"Fujioka-sama!" Tamaki says with more force than intended. Kyoya gives a thumbs up.

"Oh my. Whatever is wrong? And please, call me Ranka."

"Ranka," Tamaki begins again in a normal tone of voice, pronouncing his words with care. "I would like to help you plan any party you're considering."

"Really? Do you have skill in this area?"

"My dear sir, if there's one thing that I know, it's how to party." Kyoya rolls his eyes and groans.

"Say again?"

"I mean- No, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Really, I didn't." Tamaki's panic is palpable.

"I know what you meant, Tamaki," the older man concedes and the blond sighs. Kyoya just smiles, somewhat fondly, at the befuddled boy. "And I know it's only her sixteenth and not her eighteenth, but when Kyoya suggested it, I thought it was a wonderful idea. We don't usually celebrate, but I always want to."

"Kyoya?" Tamaki looks back at his friend who returns a steady gaze.

"Yes. We've been planning for awhile now."

Tamaki shakes his head, eyes narrowing at Kyoya. "He never said…" Kyoya grabs the half-full bottle in Tamaki's hand, downs it and stows the empty with the other two.

"I could use help with entertainment," Ranka admits.

"I can assist with that."

"And just what sort of entertainment are you thinking about? I hope you're not pervert planning for some half-naked person to appear."

Tamaki does a double take and Kyoya finally loses it, laughing behind his hand so Ranka doesn't hear. They are both nicely buzzed, having skipped dinner before hitting the road. Tamaki, however, is too nervous to enjoy the madness.

"Not at all. We're only high school students, but I wouldn't anyway."

"Because, rest assured, Mr. Good-Looks-with-Money-but-an-Idiot, I do not tolerate such decadence." Tamaki is wounded and pouting, wondering if Ranka realizes that most people would consider being a transvestite decadent, too.

"I understand. What I'm suggesting is a singer." Tamaki mentions the name of an up and coming vocalist. Kyoya looks impressed.

"Is that possible?" Ranka sounds excited.

"He's my cousin on my father's side. It would be my pleasure to make inquiries."

"I had no idea. Oh, Tamaki. Haruhi would love it."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be in touch soon."

"Wonderful. Tata for now," Ranka sing-songs before disconnecting.

Tamaki looks over at his friend, who has sat back, chuckling to himself. "Happy?" he asks, tucking the phone away.

Kyoya speaks at irregular intervals through soft laughter. "Tamaki...I applaud you for having a mouth _big_ enough to fit _several_ feet into… It's rather charming, actually...amusing as hell."

"For you," Tamaki says, a little miffed, but only a little. "Guess it was pretty funny, but," he stops and downshifts into a more serious attitude. "Jus' when were you gonna to tell me that you had this party queued up and ready to play, Kyoya?"

"I don't recall us agreeing to fill one another in on tactics." He pushes at his glasses.

"Is that what this party is? A tactic to win Haruhi?"

"You make it sound so calculated."

"Isn't it?"

"You really must get over your naïve attitude 'bout people's intentions. They're almost always, if not always, self-serving."

"What if I don't wanna believe that?" _'Cause I don't._

"Then, my friend, you're screwed. It's one thing for a commoner to preach the milk of human kindness. It's quite another for us." Kyoya gives him a knowing look and opens the fourth bottle. "Split?"

"Sure," he agrees, disregarding his own relatively impaired judgment and beginning to feel that a slightly inebriated Kyoya might hear things differently than a stone cold sober one. Tamaki crooks his arm along the back of the bench they share, head leaning onto it. "I don't see the difference."

They've had many conversations like this, sharing ideas and thoughts while sober and not. It's one of Kyoya's favorite things to do and he settles against the seat and begins gesturing with his hands, meaning he's not. As they converse, they pass the bottle between them, taking sips and talking in earnest. Previous topics have ranged from politics to astrology and everything in between.

"Think of it this way," Kyoya says. "The average person goes through life pretty much anonymously. No undue attention paid to anything they do 'cause it doesn't have great inpact - inpact? No- immpact on the world in general. We," he says holding up one finger, "we, on the other hand, are held under scrutiny by _everyone_ ," his finger swishes in front of Tamaki's face, "because _we_ are expected to have great immpact. Might as well just put a big bulls-eye on our backs 'cause everyone is gunning for us." He shapes his fingers like a gun.

"Seems to me that what you put out in the world is what you get back."

"Karma? You would say that, but who do you think is going to survive in the real world outside of Ouran? We play, we learn, we fight - but it's always contained." He starts counting off on his fingers. "We're security-cammed, watch-dogged, body-guarded, phone-tapped, you name it. We live in a bubble, Tam, and there are billions of people who would love to see it pop." He nods once.

"That's pretty cynical."

"Because," Kyoya says slapping a palm against his chest, "I am a modern cynic - not a classical one. I choose to maintain wealth and power, not give it away as Diogenes the Dog-man did, though I do like his idea of 'I bite my friends to save them.'"

Tamaki chortles, "Kyoya - you made a dog joke."

"So I did," he smiles, stowing the now empty bottle with the others.

"And you think everyone will betray you in the end?"

Kyoya's hands drop into his lap with a deep sigh. "Everyone, somehow. But at least I know it and it doesn't get in the way of my goals in life. If I choose to be ethical and treat others with care, it's a _conscious choice_ ; not because I believe I'll be rewarded in some hereafter or because society tells me that's the way I'm supposed to behave."

"And how is that different than being good to people 'cause you _do_ think it's the right thing to do or maybe, you just like them?"

"It's not the same."

"The _result_ is the same."

Kyoya gets stuck on that which is how Tamaki usually holds up his end of any argument. Complexity versus simplicity. End result - draw.

The brunet's eyes squint a bit as he says, "Y'know, Haruhi said somethin' like that to me a while ago."

"That's my girl."

"She even said that you and I are more alike than different, though I begged to differ."

"You always try to make people think you're high logic, low emotion; but I know you, Kyoya." _Better than most._

Kyoya's chin juts forward and his eyes narrow. "Whadya know?"

"I know that, in the end and no matter why you do it, you do right by people when you believe in them. Justice without bullshit."

"I believe in life without bullshit. So, why am I a host, again?" Tamaki laughs at his friend's deadpan question. "I'm serious, Tam. Being a host is bullshit, so why do I do it?"

"It's not bullshit, Mom," Tamaki counters. He places his hand over his heart. "It is creating a pocket of civility in an uncivilized world."

"Well, that's a specious argument, but I'll let it slide 'cause the world is uncivilized."

"Everyone betrays everyone, then?" Tamaki is suddenly serious, sad for his friend's current view of the world.

Kyoya shrugs. "A little white lie, an omission of truth, a bending of the rules - everyone does it. And what you do once, you'll do again. S'just a matter of time."

"What about love?"

"What about it? Seems to me love is the biggest betrayal of all - an illusion we call reality. I don't believe a person can give without expecting _something_ in return."

"I do. I don't think it's easy, but I think human beings are capable of generosity, kindness, selflessness."

"Giving without getting?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm talkin' love here. Don't you love, Kyoya?"

He watches his friend consider the question as logically as he's capable of doing right now. "I told you I do. My brother, my sister, my mother most of the time, you."

Tamaki's response is automatic. "I love you, too." The way he says it feels intimate.

Kyoya laughs a bit, "You really don't handle alcohol well, do you?"

"No, makes me…filters lose…more."

"This conversation is getting a little weird."

"Does it frighten you?"

"Nnnoo, but I thought we were discussing Haruhi's party. And yes, I did plan it - for _her_."

"I'm glad."

Kyoya looks at him, a quizzical look on his face. "I thought we were competing for her attention."

"You are."

"You're not?"

"I don't think so. There's someone else I already love." Tamaki hitches a sigh, relieved and surprised by his off-hand confession. Kyoya goes still and Tamaki feels the air being sucked out of the space between them, his mouth going dry. Yet, for all of his nervousness and fuzzy brain, he's reached a place of clarity.

Kyoya's query is mostly breath. "Who?"

"I think you know." His decision is made. _Act or be counted a coward_.

Kyoya is uncharacteristically flustered, watching as Tamaki slides across the bench towards him. "What- What are you doing?" he asks softly, leaning back as Tamaki leans forward.

Tamaki feels the pull of his emotions unfettered as he murmurs, "I dunno, but I hope you don't push me away." Kyoya's lack of objection buoys the blond's courage, even as his heart pounds in his chest, his breath comes shorter and his pulse spikes yet again.

"When - did - this - happen?" Kyoya's eyes are wide, searching his.

Tamaki shrugs. "It didn't just happen. I guess thinking about you and Haruhi made me aware of feelings I hadn't considered before." Speaking his epiphany is gratifying, if not terrifying.

"Did I do…anything to suggest…?" Kyoya whispers.

"No, Kyoya." Tamaki soughs with a soft smile. "You didn't do a thing but be who you are…for me." Kyoya swallows. "And I don't expect anything from you that you won't give freely."

"Uhhh, I don't-"

"I know. You're not into guys. I get that. But maybe…" Tamaki holds Kyoya's gaze searching for a clue that he's been accepted, if not loved, "you could be into me...for awhile?"

And for the second time in his life, Suoh Tamaki has rendered Ootori Kyoya utterly speechless.

End - Chapter 5 - Choke

* * *

Choke \- Bowling for Soup [Tamaki's inner mind-centric]

Dude it's you're big chance. Don't blow it.  
You're probably gonna blow it.

Na na nana na…You're gonna choke again. (Refrain 2x)  
Choke. (4x)

They're counting on you. The lines have been drawn.  
You never come through when the pressure is on.  
You're covered in sweat. You're thinking too much.  
You're losing you're cool and you're losing you're touch.  
Here's you're big chance; now you're goin' for pro.  
Here we go. Here we go. 1,2,3…choke!

Na na nana na…You're gonna choke again. (Refrain 2x)  
Choke. (4x)

Your fingers are crossed, but that's not enough.  
You talk a big game, but you ain't so tough.  
The look in your eye - nothin' but fear.  
Is it cold in here? Or is it just your career?  
Another big chance goin' up in smoke.  
Here we go. Here we go. 1,2,3…choke!

Na na nana na…You're gonna choke again. (Refrain 2x)  
Choke. (4x)

Take your time now. Free your mind now.  
You can't take it. (2x)  
What are afraid of? Show 'em what you're made of.  
You can't fake it. (2x)  
You can't take it. (3x) …now!

Na na nana na…You're going choke again. (Refrain repeat to end)  
Choke. (4x)

(Spoken over repeating refrain):

Dude, seriously. People are never going talk to you again.  
You're gonna have to like get up and grow a mustache or something so no one will notice.  
You're going have to move to like another country - Third World!  
Seriously, everyone is going ignore you every day of your life from now on.  
You totally suck! It's hilarious!  
Whoa, seriously! Seriously!  
Just go, just go, just go!  
I can't stop laughing! It's ridiculous! You're an idiot!  
You're going have to go like through witness protection program or something.  
You're going have to change your name, an assumed identity or something.  
Well, literally, like, they're going put you on a milk carton of people who suck.  
That's going happen! To you!

Oh my God! It's great!


	6. Drive

The landscape between them has completely changed in the space of a few minutes. Or has it? Kyoya takes in a long breath and slowly releases it, his buzz gone cold. He looks away, unable to meet Tamaki's eyes. _How did I not realize? How did I not see this coming? So I'm the idiot, after all._ "Tamaki-"

"S'ok, Kyo. I understand if you're not interested. I jus' thought you should know. It's not like I've known this for a long time and kept it from you. I mean, I suppose I've always known but it wasn't an issue. Everybody seemed happy and it didn't matter-" The words tumble over themselves.

Kyoya puts up a hand. "Just give me a moment to think, please." He pushes at his glasses then turns on the radio once more, filling the space with a backdrop of music to diffuse their conversation.

"This isn't about thinking. It's about feeling."

 _Emotional, as always._ Kyoya looks at Tamaki again. "Then give me a minute to _feel_ ," he says emphatically, "because right now I have no idea."

Tamaki pulls back, chastened, but stays beside his friend, resting his head against Kyoya's shoulder. Kyoya doesn't resist, but sits still as stone. Tamaki is outrageous, but always well-meaning; but this is beyond any issue they've faced before. And so he stares out the window watching the highway slide by, moving in time yet static in composition. Not so with people _._ The nimble mind with numbers is somewhat at a loss with emotions. _Damn, Tamaki. Why is everything so dramatic with you? What do I feel? You're still my best friend and this can't be easy for you._ He pivots his head and Tamaki shifts closer. The brunet looks at him from the lowered corners of his eyes.

Tamaki's face is close to his, half shadowed by proximity, passing lights randomly illuminating pale eyelashes. Tamaki's eyes slant upwards at his in perfect host attitude. Kyoya knows his friend's modus operandi only too well. _What do you want, Tamaki? Acceptance? Approval? What do you want?_ But inside he knows and it unsettles him.

Homosexual supporting cast he is not. He prefers girls, though a boy may turn his head now and again. _Nothing more than that._ The twins' obvious ploys to engage him just aggravate, so why then does Tamaki's sincere request entice him? _Style vs. substance? Two vs. one? How 'bout heterosexual vs. homosexual? Or otherwise? Hmmm. You'd think that would be consideration number one, wouldn't you?_

The blond's tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them slightly parted. It shouldn't affect him but it does, focusing Kyoya's attention _. It's just a mouth._ _It could be anyone's…but it's Tamaki's. Tamaki has a beautiful mouth. As an artist, I appreciate beauty._ _That's all it is._

As if reading his mind, Tamaki asks, "Aren't you even curious?"

"No," he resists, but it's ephemeral at best. He looks away once more.

"No one has to know. It's just the two of us, like always." Tamaki leans in further, his thigh nestling against his own.

 _Now what do I do?_ Kyoya is curious; always has been about so many things. And he can't ignore the subtle thrill that Tamaki's open invitation stirs in him. _Two adolescent boys experimenting isn't exactly common, but neither is it unusual._ _And done discreetly, no one is hurt… except Haruhi. How can I be so attracted to her and consider this, too? Best to clear the air now._

"Our friendship is something I greatly value," the brunet begins, "and I always protect what I value. What you're asking may jeopardize that. Besides, you know that I have feelings towards Haruhi and, whatever they are at this point in time, they're easily frayed."

"Are you in love with her?"

Kyoya turns back to meet his friend's honest question. "I don't know. I don't jump into things the way you do, but what I can tell you is that I can't stop thinking about her. With all the girls at Ouran who admire me, not one of them interests me the way Haruhi does and I can't say why."

"Maybe it doesn't matter. I never think about the 'why' when it comes to people. I just feel what I feel. And I'm not asking you to give up Haruhi 'cause I'm pretty sure she feels the same way about you." Kyoya's eyebrows lift. "In case you hadn't noticed 'cause everyone else has."

"What do you mean?" _My demeanor at Host Club reveals nothing._

"I hate to admit it, but whenever you're around, Haruhi lights up like a candle and you? You follow her with your eyes."

"So much for being the cool character. Is it that obvious?"

Tamaki nods. "But here's the thing," he adds before the leg beside Kyoya's eases over his lap and slips between his knees. Tamaki shifts forward and turns his body towards the brunet, settling one hand on Kyoya's arm and the other on his chest. Kyoya's quickened breath tells him what he needs to know. "I don't care anymore," he admits, then pauses. Sotto voce, he murmurs, "I just want to be with you. Even just once."

"You're sure about your…preference?" Kyoya deflects in as normal a tone of voice as he can muster, his mind at odds with his body which is responding to the blond's seduction.

"I could deny it, but yeah," Tamaki replies with a slight shrug. "I'm French. I'm blond. I'm gay." His dismissive words belie the hesitation in his eyes. "And I want you, Kyoya, and part of you wants me, too."

 _To agree is to lie. To disagree is to lie. Where is the truth_? "That's an intriguing notion, in its own way."

"It's true, isn't it?"

Kyoya's fuzzy mind processes the question, struggling to maintain composure, made difficult under alcohol's influence. "I must say I'm a bit surprised that you're so comfortable with all this. You usually turn ten shades of red at the mention of genuinely sexual topics."

"I dunno. Maybe it's 'cause I couldn't accept what was happening inside of me whenever anyone said anything even remotely suggestive."

"And you can now?" _How do I answer him?_

"I"ll guess I'll find out."

"Will you tell the club?" _Why am I avoiding this?_

"I don't think it'll make much difference.

"Probably not." _Except for us._

"So what do they call it when two guys hook up at our age?"

"Besides an 'unethical relationship'?" _Since I'm eighteen and you're not?_

"Yeah."

"A youthful indiscretion, to say the least." _  
_

"So…we're young," Tamaki says in a low voice before he presses closer, sliding his hand to Kyoya's side as his face nears. "Let's be indiscreet."

Tamaki's logic may be skewed, but any retort Kyoya might offer is short-circuited by the unexpected flush that runs through him and the way his entire body tenses with anticipation. The blond is quiet as he brazenly undoes the two closed buttons of Kyoya's cardigan, then every button of the shirt beneath, waiting for opposition that never comes. Kyoya's breathing has gone shallow.

"C'mon Kyoya. Can you really say you've never thought about it?" Tamaki murmurs, his index finger tracing random swirls against Kyoya's lower abdomen. Kyoya's groin tightening in response. "Never wondered…" A more-than-subtle thrill arrows through the brunet and an indiscriminate sound voices itself from somewhere deep inside of him. So close to him, he breathes in Tamaki - cotton and wool infused with musk and the barest hint of Hermés. It further stimulates his appetite for the blond's warm and available body. _Why am I feeling this? No, wrong question. Why am I fighting this?_

Tamaki grows serious. "And if I'm…queer…then I don't want my first experience to be with a stranger or somebody I don't really care about. Can't you understand that?" Those unusual violet eyes seem to look into his soul. _Tamaki is queer._ The word hovers between them, something they've sidestepped for years - out of ignorance, out of fear of reprisal, out of respect for their friendship. He's tolerant of differences in others but having your best friend come out to you _and_ force you to examine your own sexuality at the same time is a double kick in the head. Kyoya tries to close himself off to the pain he hears in Tamaki's last question and his body to the way Tamaki's hand feels just inches away from where he knows he wants it to be. An audible sigh of surrender grips him.

 _Realization - I want to mess around with my best friend who happens to be a guy only I'm totally hung up on another friend who happens to be a girl. That makes me... Okay. Maybe it's smarter if we don't act on any of this right now._ "Listen," he says, pushing at his glasses. "We're a little drunk and I think we should talk about this when we're not, like tomorrow."

"I can't wait."

Tamaki leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss under Kyoya's jaw eliciting a twitch and intake of breath. The blond trails lazy wet kisses against his throat moving upwards until Kyoya feels warm breath in his ear. "Je tiens à faire plasir," {I want to pleasure you} Tamaki murmurs, voice full of longing. Kyoya gives one slow blink. _How did I know you were going to go French on me?_

Kyoya hums an exhale as the tip of Tamaki's tongue slides along his ear's inner curve to the lobe that he pulls into his mouth briefly before releasing. Body turned towards the blond, Kyoya grabs Tamaki's upper arm and pushes him back into the bench, leans in, placing a kiss just beside his mouth, then pulling back. The blond's smile is impish. "That's not how you kissed Haruhi, now is it?" with a twitch of a brow. For a brief moment, Kyoya sees in Tamaki's eyes a look of pure craving. If he was the cat with Haruhi, he's now Tamaki's mouse. Then the blond smiles, a flash of innocence, and he remembers. _It's Tamaki._

Despite the blond's bravado, Kyoya feels the subtle tremor under his hand even as Tamaki's hand splays at the back of his neck and moves closer. His eyelids droop as the blond keeps him close, his lips touching Kyoya's lightly, moving with languid perfection against them. Brief exploratory kisses spark a burn over the brunet's skin. _Is it the kiss?_ A sharp need to respond grips him as he catches the soft lips between his own. _Is it him?_ Tamaki's hum vibrates through him. _Or just me?_ The tongue that captured his attention licks fire against his lips, first lower, then upper drawing Kyoya's out to toy with it. _Does it matter?_

Any thought of letting Tamaki explore without response from him is discarded. He grabs the blond's face with one hand, angling it to his liking as he plunders that sweet mouth anew, tongue licking into his mouth without finesse. Tamaki pushes back, nipping Kyoya's upper lip. "Oww!" They shove away from one another, hands maintaining their grip, chests heaving. They seem to realize at the same time that they're matched in build and in strength. Tenderness is optional. There's just need and want, and a bond of trust forged long ago.

Sweaters are peeled off and shirt buttons begin getting undone. The blond doesn't have the patience to wait and interrupts Kyoya to straddle him, pinning him at the hips against the back of the bench. Kyoya slides down a bit, closing the gap between them, breathless at the way Tamaki has taken hold of him. Above, the blond's hands rake through dark hair as they angle Kyoya's face upwards before dropping his head.

"Je désire ceci," {I want you} Tamaki breathes against lips that seek his. Kyoya wants it, too; wants to know how it is to find pleasure, not with just any male, but with this one. Only he's unable to say it and he's angry with himself for being unable to say it. _You deserve better._ Instead, he shows what he cannot say, his mouth bruising Tamaki's with hungry kisses that only increase his deeper want. Lips caress lips, tongues sliding and circling one another.

They pause for breath. Tamaki removes Kyoya's glasses saying, "I like you without them," before setting them beside their schoolbags and topcoats on deck, listing against the brunet to do so. As he descends he deliberately rocks against Kyoya's torso. The brunet closes his eyes to sharpen his awareness of the blond's stiff cock against him through chinos. Tamaki resettles, hands against Kyoya's chest, continuing his slow, steady pulse against Kyoya while bestowing feathery kisses on his forehead, both cheeks, his chin, dropping lower to draw his collar to one side to press his mouth to the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

"Don't," Kyoya warns in a deep breathy voice, forbidding Tamaki from leaving a mark that might evidence their tryst, even as his heated blood throttles through him, pooling at his core, setting him fully alight and aloft.

His eyes re-open and Tamaki is focused on him with a small smile. "So you're interested, at last," he quips, his voice huskier than usual as he shifts back on Kyoya's thighs with a gravelly sigh, making sure that bottom and balls make a good impression on the newly arrived party guest. Kyoya groans and Tamaki looks smug. They undo one another's belts, Kyoya stopping the blond from doing more by pushing him off his lap in an attmept to wrestle him horizontal with himself above.

They tussle in the awkward space. Tamaki has the advantage and uses it to keep Kyoya under him as they sprawl partly on, partly off the bench. An upper thigh bears into the brunet's already aroused state and he growls with urgency and frustration, annoyed at being controlled by Tamaki, who usually lets him run things. But not here. Tamaki is unphased by his irritation, an unusual response, supporting himself on straight arms, looking down at Kyoya. "Trouves-tu cela?" {Do you like this?}

"Not much," Kyoya grumbles, but it's a lie. Tamaki gives a moue and makes a mock sad sound before rubbing himself upwards along Kyoya's thigh creating friction as his own thigh rubs through Kyoya's corduroys and against his cock. They groan together, the line separating friends from lovers growing ever more indistinct. They're panting as Tamaki slides back and Kyoya repositions them so that their cocks are flush to one another.

Tamaki drops onto his forearms, his face in line with Kyoya's. Their eyes meet and Kyoya is taken aback. He can't remember anyone ever looking at him like this. Ever. Fondness, humor and lust meet in Tamaki's gaze. And in that moment, he knows he is loved by the crazy French-Japanese boy who has turned his life upside down for the better. What's more, he knows he could fall in love with him.

He could.

End - Chapter 6 - Drive

* * *

Drive \- Incubus [Kyoya-centric]

Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear  
And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear  
Take the wheel and steer.  
It's driven me before  
And it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal;  
But lately I'm beginning to find that I  
Should be the one behind the wheel.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there  
With open arms and open eyes.  
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.  
I'll be there.

So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive,  
Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?  
It's driven me before  
And it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around;  
But lately I'm beginning to find that  
When I drive myself my light is found.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there  
With open arms and open eyes.  
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.  
I'll be there.

Would you choose water over wine?  
Hold the wheel and drive.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there  
With open arms and open eyes.


	7. The Great Escape

Breath channels through noses, pants from mouths, onto one another's faces, against one another's hair. Lips seek flesh to caress, to nip, to adore. "J'aime à te toucher," {I love touching you} Tamaki croons seductively. Tongues lave the flushed skin of ear, neck and the rise of collarbone. Hands seek skin wherever they can find it and caress where they cannot, Kyoya's roaming Tamaki's back, his buttocks and his thighs, gaining knowledge through touch. They communicate differently, but the message is the same. _More._

Time suspends as their altered state governs reality. Fabric detracts yet adds sensation to the stimulation of cocks working a rhythm against each other. On top, Tamaki's hands grip Kyoya's pinning them to either side of him as he pushes himself to ride harder against the brunet. Underneath, Kyoya feels restricted and overheated. He needs freedom to move, wants to take charge of the blond, make him say his name as he cums. There are no second thoughts now.

"I want my hand _on_ you, not over you," Kyoya says, fully engaged in what he initially opposed. Tamaki's slitted eyes widen, but he doesn't hesitate to unfasten his trousers, then Kyoya's. The brunet reaches between them to press his hand against the toned muscle of Tamaki's lower abdomen, then lower, passing over the patch of what he imagines to be blond hair, ignoring Tamaki's cock to gently fondle his sack. "Do you like this?" Kyoya uses Tamaki's own question to tease the blond who simply moans with satisfaction and leans over to kiss him, tongue deep into his mouth.

Kyoya does nothing half-way, his compulsion to excel both an asset and a liability. Having finally committed to the cause, he wants to concentrate on pleasing Tamaki, but the blond's tongue endlessly diverts as it draws back, teasing Kyoya's forward so he can wrap his lips around it, suckle and end with a flick against it. He does it again, leaving Kyoya dizzy and unfocused. _Where did you learn how to do that?_ His free hand rakes through the blond's hair at the back of his head, clutching a handful and pulling his head back with more than a gentle tug. The look in Tamaki's eyes is feral and Kyoya likes that. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." Tamaki's breathing is a little labored.

"Then be still."

"Please, Kyo. I'm sorry." But he holds himself quiet, breathing in soft pants, his eyes soft with passion, inciting the same in Kyoya.

Kyoya releases him with one hand as the fingertips of the other brush upwards along Tamaki's hard length to palm the head. He takes the hard twitch and involuntary mewl that he draws from the blond as recompense. Using the slick precum on his hand, he does for Tamaki what he likes for himself, gliding his grip half-way back down Tamaki's shaft, squeezing gently, then sliding up again, the palm of his hand covering the head with a swirling motion before he repeats the pattern. He's disadvantaged by position, but Tamaki's response indicates only pleasure as he pants against Kyoya's ear.

He continues stroking, fascinated by the way he can make Tamaki twitch or sigh or moan. "Look at me," Kyoya commands softly. Tamaki pulls back and forces his eyes open, pupils blown out wide. His right hand is laced tightly in Kyoya's left while the other grips the leather upholstery. He's practically been edging since they started, his need now desperate.

A soft pinch on the underside of the cock where the head and shaft meet and Tamaki stills, sound caught in his throat, ejaculate warming Kyoya's palm. Kyoya stops stroking but does what he does for himself, maintaining an open-fisted hold, gently pulsing it like a heartbeat as orgasm ripples through the blond who shudders, wordless utterances synced with his body's spasms, mouth open to take in needed oxygen, eyes slammed shut. "Say my name," Kyoya murmurs. Tamaki hums a bit, then presses his lips to Kyoya's whispering 'Kyoya' like prayer, before bestowing a sloppy kiss.

Tamaki finally stills with a full exhalation, collapses and buries his face in Kyoya's neck. The full-press of his weight is strangely comforting to the brunet, its allure nearly as powerful as his yet unmet sexual need. He unwinds his hand from Tamaki's and rummages in his side pocket, extracting a simple white handkerchief that he uses to clean them up, then re-pockets. The blond stirs lazily and closes his chinos. "Mnnn. I like you taking care of me," he mutters, "but I need to take care of you, too." He kisses Kyoya's chest and rolls off.

The brunet misses his warmth, but lays back with closed eyes, body strung taut, wrists crossed at the top of his forehead, as before. He feels his trousers being tugged down a bit, the air cool against superheated flesh. He's already slick at the head when Tamaki's hand palms there, then takes him in hand, running his thumb back-and-forth over the slit before sliding down to the base with a slow glide and quick return. Kyoya's hips surge upward into his hold and back with a solid grunt. He looks to Tamaki who sits on his knees beside him in the concave space below the bench.

"C'est bon, ça?" {Good, huh?} Tamaki asks, the imp returned. _As if you don't know._

"A-gain," Kyoya instructs, too enthralled to scowl.

"Très bien." {Very good} He executes the move once more and Kyoya growls his approval, feeling heightened knowing that Tamaki observes him, wants to please him.

"A few more like that and I'm done," Kyoya informs between breaths.

"I can make it last longer," the blond promises.

"Just finish me," he breathes. For a few endless moments, Kyoya feels nothing but nerves frazzled to the point of pain. And then he's absorbed into the unexpected warmth of Tamaki's mouth. He gasps and props himself up on his elbows, eyes open to the sight of Tamaki going down on him. It's an image he'll never forget even as his eyes roll back in his head and he flops back down, sensation coiling tighter, stronger, harder, then suddenly releasing with white-hot ferocity, followed by rapture.

He restrains the cry that rises in his throat, dim awareness reminding that they aren't altogether alone. The keen spasms linger, subsiding over time into a sense of well-being. He lay in a stupor as Tamaki cleans up with tissues and refastens his trousers. Kyoya pulls himself into a seated position, movements sluggish as he rearranges his shirt and sweater and re-loops his belt. He grabs a water bottle and uncaps it, letting the cool liquid ease his parched throat as he always does after sexual pleasure. Sobriety is re-emerging but he feels groggy and unkempt. A look over at Tamaki and he's baffled as to how the blond manages to look rested and neatly reappointed. _Then again...he is the prince._

Tamaki takes the half-full bottle Kyoya offers and finishes it. "You're very pretty when you cum, Kyoya," Tamaki says across the dark space between them.

"So are you, even though you're still an idiot," comes the reply as Kyoya resets his glasses on his nose. But his tone is affectionate.

"Thank you," Tamaki smiles at the endearment.

"You know this isn't going to happen again."

"We'll see."

Kyoya doesn't argue, just looks at his watch, then out the window noting that they're approaching the exit for Tamaki's neighborhood. He leans back with a sigh of contentment.

"What do you think your father would say about what we just did?" Tamaki asks.

"I don't want to think about that."

"It would be a glorious way to get back at him, though. Wouldn't it?"

Kyoya gives a short laugh. "Might just give him a heart attack or a stroke except with my luck, he'd revive himself with his own equipment."

"You'll exceed him, Kyoya. You know that."

Kyoya shakes his head. "It's unlikely. He's highly successful in business."

"And a failure at relationships. Where's the merit in that?" Kyoya doesn't reply, considering the question. Then, in typical nonsequitur Tamaki fashion, he yawns and says, "I'm starving. We should have had dinner before we got on the highway."

"You should have mentioned it. '"

"I had other things on my mind."

"I'd say so."

"You didn't?"

 _We both know you're referring to Haruhi, but I'm not discussing it right now._ "What do you think your grandmother would say?"

"I don't think her opinion of me could get any worse, but there's always that possibility."

"Especially if she knew you went down on guys."

"I don't go down on guys; only you." He reaches over and puts his hand on Kyoya's knee.

"This isn't happening again, Tamaki," Kyoya repeats, removing Tamaki's hand. "You said, 'once.'"

"Don't say anything more, Kyo. Let's just enjoy being together. The rest will work itself out."

"You believe that?"

"I do. I have to."

Kyoya doesn't want to ask what he means, but he abides by Tamaki's wishes. Unpredictable, loyal, passionate and yes, loving, is his best friend. _Maybe there really is something genuine about love._ The Tokyo tower is visible in the distance. Kyoya turns the radio volume up at the sound of a song he enjoys. It's an upbeat anthem. He sees Tamaki look upwards at the sunroof with a look of mischief.

"You wouldn't," Kyoya says.

"Wouldn't I?"

"Tamaki…"

"I gotta do it. Open the window."

"It's freezing."

"I don't care. I want to feel it. Open the window."

"You're crazy."

"So are you. That's why we're friends. Open - The - Window."

"Arghh," Kyoya gripes but hits the button that powers the sunroof open. The steamy heat of the car is sucked into the night. Tamaki throws on his overcoat, then jumps up on the bench seat in stockinged feet, pushing his upper body through the oblong opening. Kyoya watches from beneath and hears him yelling at the top of his lungs. He shakes his head at his friend's insanity, then follows suit.

The night is cold and crisp but they're young and hot-blooded. The speed of the car makes balance precarious, but they help one another stay upright. The moon is full, surrounded by a ring of icy light high in the stratosphere.

"This is supposed to feel good?" Kyoya yells over the rushing air, his face already smarting from the wind.

"Isn't it great?" Tamaki yells back. He settles an arm around the brunet's shoulder. "Kyoya," he shouts next to his ear. "Promise me we'll always be friends."

"Of course, you dumbass."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what!"

Tamaki moves his arm to reach down and grab Kyoya's hand, throwing it up with his. Kyoya gives him a look that asks 'really?' "C'mon, Kyo. You know you want to." _I do, don't I?_

Four hands are in the air, flying down the highway on a winterbound night, their voices howling at the hunter's moon. Whatever changes come, they'll handle it. Whatever relationships or challenges, they'll handle it. Time enough to sort out what it all means. Right now, they're just friends - very, very close friends.

End - Chapter 7 - The Great Escape

* * *

The Great Escape \- Boys Like Girls [Kyoya x Tamaki-centric]

Paper bags and plastic hearts -  
All our belongings in shopping carts.  
It's goodbye, but we got one more night.  
Let's get drunk and ride around  
And make peace with an empty town.  
We can make it right.

Throw it away. Forget yesterday.  
We'll make the great escape.  
We won't hear a word they say.  
They don't know us anyway.  
Watch it burn. Let it die. 'Cause we are finally free tonight.

Tonight will change our lives.  
It's so good to be by your side.  
We'll cry. We won't give up the fight.  
We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs  
And they'll think it's just 'cause we're young  
And we'll feel so alive.

Throw it away. Forget yesterday.  
We'll make the great escape.  
We won't hear a word they say.  
They don't know us anyway.  
Watch it burn. Let it die. 'Cause we are finally free tonight.

All of the wasted time,  
The hours that were left behind,  
The answers that we'll never find -  
They don't mean a thing tonight.

Throw it away. Forget yesterday. (refrain 2x)  
We'll make the great escape.  
We won't hear a word they say.  
They don't know us anyway.

Watch it burn. Let it die. 'Cause we are finally free tonight.


	8. Right Here

Just before noon on Sunday, patchy clouds coat a slate sky. The weather is unseasonably warm and the mounded snow is melting into rivulets that meander across sidewalks and streets into gutters turned into urban waterfalls. Haruhi enters the apartment and places the grocery sacks on the counter. _Dad won't be home for awhile._ She puts the items where they're stowed and looks around the quiet rooms.

For once, the hosts have honored her request to be left alone on the weekend and she appreciates the solitude and quiet. It's something she needs on a regular basis to recharge her soul after dealing with school, friends and crazy girls all week long. She meditates, sitting by the window for long stretches, keeping her mind as still as possible. She tries to do so now.

 _I am a petal in the stream. I am water over stone._ Try as she might, she's unable to calm her mind. She picks up the novel a classmate recommended, but it's left on her bed after fifteen minutes. She plays a few listless rounds of solitaire on her netbook, but she can't concentrate. Everything she tries fails to distract her thoughts from the one thing, the one person, that claims them - Kyoya-senpai.

She keeps busy, folding and refolding every piece of laundry. _Sure, he's the cool guy, but that's not why._ She dusts. _He isn't sweet like Honey-senpai._ She vacuums _. He isn't kind like Mori-senpai._ She prepares her bookbag for school the following day. _He certainly isn't funny like the twins or even as charming as Tamaki-senpai._ She decides what to prepare for dinner and gets things started. _Wealth is more a liability than an asset to me_ _and_ _he reports to my dad._ She slams the refrigerator door closed _. Get out of my head Kyoya. Get out and stay out._

She isn't smitten. Oh no, she's not. She's sensible and realistic and has neither the time nor the inclination to have a romantic relationship with anybody, let alone someone she considers just a friend who she sees nearly every day. If it all goes wrong... well, that would be awkward, to the say the least. _Get real, Haruhi. You've been quietly flirting for weeks..._

… _Senpai, why am I suddenly booked to the max? How am I supposed to entertain all these clients?...Are you saying you're unable to manage a few amorous girls? Come now, Haruhi. Your skills are really quite good…You would know…_

… _Haruhi? I need to speak with you about your recent expenditures for the club's pantry. Please stay after hours to go over the receipts…Do you really need me to stay?...Yes, Haruhi, I need you…_

… _Senpai, I appreciate the opportunity to cosplay as Queen Cleopatra, but why is Tamaki Caesar and you, Antony?...Because he's the king, of course. What other possible reason could there be?..._

On top of that, her recall is just too good…

… _He stops her with his closed lips on hers, his hand threading through her hair at the back of her head…she feels him smile against her mouth…the hand on her shoulder moves to encircle her waist...the slow slide of his tongue against her closed mouth…her own tongue seeking him…slow unhurried movements…breath uneven, pulse thrumming…_

She sighs, as vexed as she is stirred up by the memory. It captures her at the oddest times - the way he regarded her, the sound of his voice at her ear, the way he touched her and the way his lips felt against hers. Tenderness and Kyoya are not easily linked, but he was tender with her. She wonders what else is hidden behind the façade he carefully maintains.

She makes a cup of tea and cuddles up with it on the sofa, wrapping herself within the afghan her mom crocheted long ago. She imagines those hands working the hook, soft yarn scrolling in and around to create something warm and comforting just for her. _It's almost like you're hugging me, Mom._ The tears rise and since she's alone, she allows them to puddle and roll down her cheeks forging salty tracks that burn her skin.

A minute of self-indulgence and she straightens her shoulders, wiping the tears away with her hands. _This doesn't help anything._ "Oh," she says out loud, "I'm so confused. Dad is great but I wish I could talk to you." She leans her face against the back of the sofa and closes her eyes.

Street sounds fade and in their place is the quiet ping of wind chimes floating in the rush of warm air that wafts through the apartment. The spicy sweet scent of incense and flowers fills the air. Haruhi feels a hand brush her cheek and a voice call her name…

"Haruhi…Wake up sleepy-girl. Come on."

Haruhi lifts her head and rubs her eyes. A soft golden glow, thick as honey, streams through the windows at the far end of the room. _Sun must've come out._ She sits up and blinks several times in quick succession. Bathed in the mellow light at the other end of the sofa sits Fujioka Kotoko. She's wearing her gray suit, the one Haruhi always imagines her in. No angel wings or halo, though.

 _This is weird._ "Umm, hey Mom. How'd you get here?"

"Trade secret. Are you scared?" Her voice is soothing.

"A little confused, but that's okay. Are you a ghost?"

"There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Then what are you?" _And why am I talking to you?_

"I'm your mom. Just go with it, Haru-chan." The image smiles with benevolence and Haruhi gives up logic.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you need me now."

"I've needed you for a long time. Why didn't you come then?" Haruhi can't help but sound a little miffed.

"I'm sorry, but it's not that easy. Besides, your dad's doing a good job taking care of you. He's still as cute as ever, too." The vision giggles, a bit girly in aspect.

"I didn't think…spirits…could laugh."

"Guess we can, like this. But I'm not here to discuss me but you, and I'm right here, right now. Are things okay? Are you well?"

"I'm fine unless craving fancy tuna counts as an addiction."

"Yum. I don't blame you one bit." They chuckle together. "Is it about school?"

Haruhi clutches the blanket around her knees and rests her chin on top. "Nah. That's okay. I have to study all the time, but I'm keeping my grades up. My scholarship depends on my doing well."

"You must work very hard."

"I'm going to go to law school and become a lawyer like you."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"Does it please you?" Haruhi's head tips to one side.

"If becoming a lawyer is your dream, then follow it; but if something else pulls at your heart, follow that. It doesn't matter what pleases me. But I do think it's important for a young woman to be able to take care of herself, though money isn't everything."

"I know that."

"Oh, don't misunderstand. Money is a wonderful tool. It gives us opportunities, but it doesn't and never will buy happiness."

"My idiot rich friends wouldn't agree, even though they seem to have as many problems as anyone else; maybe more."

"School friends?"

"At Ouran Academy. That's where I go."

"I'm aware of Ouran. I attended Lobelia, you know."

"That's right." Haruhi grins. "Oh, Mom. If you only knew…"

"Do they still have that ridiculous Zuka Club?"

"Do they ever!"

"And here I was hoping they'd un-charter that one." They laugh together and Haruhi relaxes. _If this is a dream, I'm going to enjoy it._

"But you were a part of it. Dad showed me the souvenirs."

"I only joined for a semester because my best friend was in it and said if I didn't join, she wouldn't be my friend any more. Imagine being so weak-willed as to join a club just because you're forced into it."

"Yeah, I sorta can, actually." Kotoko's eyes show curiosity. "See, I'm in this club at school. It's called the Host Club."

"A host club? Sounds…different."

"How do I explain? It's a group of boys that entertains girls every afternoon, for a fee."

"That sounds vaguely improper." Kotoko gives her a pointed look.

"I know, but it's really pretty innocent.""

"And you dress up like a boy, too?"

"Like you said, 'long story,' but yeah, that's it."

"Oh, Zuka Club did that all the time. It can be fun actually - trying on the opposite gender to see what it's like. Or don't you like it?"

"I never really thought about it. Is that what you did?

"That's how I met your dad." Haruhi's eyes open wide.

"Really?"

"Ryoji was so handsome - too handsome, actually. So many girls vied for his attention. First time I saw him, he was on a date with some drama major in college. I was a 3rd-year attending an after-party, still in costume, mind you. We started talking and it was clear he thought I was a guy. We got along right from the start and his date never suspected."

"When did he find out you were a girl?"

"When I slipped him my phone number," Kotoko chuckles. "He practically jumped out of his skin, but then I told him my "secret." Funny, he didn't notice before then, but once he knew…well, it seemed to make him all the more interested. He called me the next day and that was that."

"Was he a transvestite then?" Haruhi allows one foot to slip to the floor, the other tucked under the crook of her knee, hands in her lap.

"No. Not until I got pregnant. There were complications, then Ryoji lost his job and money got tight. I was the one who suggested he try dressing like a woman. He was so determined to take care of me and you all on his own."

"I never knew. Dad never talks about it."

"He doesn't want you to worry though he worries all the time. So… what's troubling you, Haru-chan? It's not your health or your schoolwork, so it must be about… love? Is there a boy on your mind? Or maybe a girl?"

Haruhi looks down at her hands. "He's a friend at school and I know him from the Host Club. I don't know if anyone knows him well, 'cept for his best friend."

"What's he like?"

"He's smart, level-headed, and talented, but doesn't get recognized for any of it by his family."

"That bothers you."

"I don't understand it. He's first in his class."

"You admire that."

"Ouran's a tough school."

"So...is he cute?"

"You could say that."

"Do _you_?"

"Okay, yes, he's extremely cute. He's also extremely wealthy."

"That's a problem?"

"A bit. He can be a little clueless about how the other half lives. Actually, all of my Ouran friends are clueless about that. They've never had to do without anything and they're all fascinated by what they call "commoner" things. It's pretty silly."

"So you're their link to the so-called real world. That sounds interesting."

"Does it?"

"Learning about different types of people and their lives is always fascinating and helping someone develop understanding is a priceless opportunity. Finding the merit in any given situation takes practice, but it's worth it."

"Why did you use that word?"

"What word?"

"Merit."

"Does it mean something to you?"

"Not to me so much, but this friend of mine always measures things in terms of whether something has merit for him or not."

"Don't we all?"

"Do we?" Haruhi's brow wrinkles, taken aback by the assessment.

"Whenever we make a decision about something, we always weigh how it will affect us, consciously or not. Think about what matters to you. Your choices reflect your commitment to those values."

"I used to think that money was the only thing Kyoya-senpai valued, but I don't think that any longer."

"And you like him, but you're not happy about it." Haruhi shrugs her shoulders, eyes seeking answers. "Why not?"

"I don't have time for distractions. Besides, why would someone like Kyoya be interested in me when he could date anyone he chooses?"

"Do you really need me to tell you?"

"Will you think I'm fishing for compliments if I say yes?"

"No. So…Haru-chan…I'll tell you what I know about you. Just don't ask how I know. Let's just say that I get updates."

The brunette groans. "You, too?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean Kyoya-senpai gives Dad updates about me."

"He does?" Kotoko sounds surprised.

"Yeah. It's a little off-putting, actually." _More like a lot off-putting._

"Your father cares about you and your friend wouldn't pay attention if he wasn't interested, now would he? If it didn't have merit for him, as you say."

"Wait a minute…you think that Kyoya reports to Dad because… no." A novel thought sparks in Haruhi's mind.

"No, what?"

"Because it benefits him to talk to Dad?"

"How would your father even know this boy unless he'd been contacted by him after you became a member of this Host Club? I'm sure he was the one to make the first move." Haruhi lips fall open. "Seems you're a little clueless yourself."

"Me?" _Clueless?_ Haruhi's other foot sets down on the floor beside the first. She turns away, mildly embarrassed.

"Haruhi, you're what a boy would call the total package: beauty, brains and a straightforward personality. And the fact that you're unaware of how special you are makes you even more attractive. Adolescent girls can be vain, petty and superficial. You're not any of those things."

"But Kyoya is already eighteen. His family probably has plans for his future mapped out, including who he's supposed to end up marrying."

"So young?"

"That's how these rich families operate. Guess they want to be sure that the right connections are made before the kids can decide for themselves who they want to be with."

"And you think Kyoya-kun wants that?"

"I don't know."

"Then you don't know at all. What else is holding you back?"

"I've never had a boyfriend. Never wanted one. But I see how the girls at club behave and I just don't see myself acting that way."

"Then don't. Tell me," Kotoko continues, "Is he interested in you?"

Haruhi reflects on Friday's outing…

..."It would seem we are ever engaged in a parry of words."  
"I call it smart flirting."  
"So do I."  
"Is it working?"  
"I would have to concede."...

Her cheeks color.

"I guess so," Kotoko states. Haruhi looks into her mom's eyes which are smiling and filled with warmth.

"What do I do now?"

"Be yourself."

…"Don't change too much, Haruhi"…

She averts her eyes just a bit and quietly asks, "What about…you know…intimacy?"

"It's a beautiful part of loving someone."

"I don't mean to be dense about it, but how do you know when you're ready? The girls I talk to at club have all sorts of different ideas about it. So do the guys, when I overhear them."

"I may sound old-fashioned, but I think being in a relationship where you're committed to one another's happiness and goals should be part of the equation."

"Sounds serious."

"It should be. Treating sex like a casual game can be costly, Haruhi, especially when you're so young. I don't want to see you get hurt. Boys, by the way, think being in love and being in lust are the same thing. They're not."

Haruhi looks back at Kotoko. "How do you know if you're in love?"

"Hmmm. Let's see...who in your life loves you right now, besides me?"

Haruhi gives a small smile. "Dad."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's in the way he treats me, how he looks out for me, how he wants the best for me. He just shows it."

"That's what loving someone is like. And, one day, when it comes from the person you consider your best friend for life, it's perfect."

Haruhi takes a breath and says, "And…about sex...am I supposed to know everything all at once or learn as I go?"

Kotoko chuckles. "You think too much."

"I've been told."

"But if you mean like learning to crawl before you walk before you run, no. There's no rule book about it. Just be sure that you're comfortable with whatever it is you're considering and if you're not, be honest about it. Sex is give-and-take and respecting one another's feelings, just like anything else in a relationship."

The glow around the image begins to fade.

"Mom?"

"I'm sorry, Haru-chan. I think my time is up."

"Can't you stay a little longer?"

"Don't be afraid to give your heart. It may be broken, but it will always recover so you can give it again. But if you never give, you'll never know how wonderful it feels to receive." The vision is nothing but mist.

"Please stay."

"I'm right here." Kotoko places a hand over her heart, kisses the palm of her hand and extends it to Haruhi. "Always."

Haruhi moves from her place on the sofa to reach out for the figure, but the image dissolves in her hands. The golden glow fades to gray and the apartment turns drab once more. A few remaining tears squeeze from the sides of Haruhi's eyes and she's absorbed by fatigue once more, easing down onto the sofa and closing her eyes.

She hears the doorbell through a sleepy haze, feels tears behind her lids. They coat her eyes as she blinks them away. Her tea has gone cold on the table. The doorbell rings again. She rises, pushing the lingering moisture from her eyes. She hates it when she falls asleep after crying. Her eyes get puffy and weird looking. The bell rings again. _Impatient little bugger._

She opens it, prepared to greet a delivery man or a solicitor. Imagine her surprise when who else but Kyoya is standing in her doorway.

End - Chapter 8 - Right Here

* * *

Right Here \- Miley Cyrus [Kotoko-centric]

I'll be right here where you need me.  
Anytime; just keep believing and I'll be right here.  
If you ever need a friend, someone to care  
and understand, I'll be right here.

All you have to do is call my name  
No matter how close or far away.  
Ask me once and I'll come, I'll come running.  
And when I can't be with you, dream me near.  
Keep me in your heart and I'll appear.  
All you got to do is turn around, close your eyes,  
look inside - I'm right here.

Isn't it great that you know that  
I'm ready to go wherever you're at?  
Anywhere; I'll be there.

All you have to do is call my name  
No matter how close or far away.  
Ask me once and I'll come, I'll come running.  
And when I can't be with you, dream me near.  
Keep me in your heart and I'll appear.  
All you got to do is turn around, close your eyes,  
look inside - I'm right here…

Whenever you need me.  
There's no need to worry.  
You know that I'm gonna be right here!

Ask me once and I'll come, I'll come running.  
And when I can't be with you, dream me near.  
Keep me in your heart and I'll appear.  
All you got to do is turn around, close your eyes,  
look inside - I'm right here.

Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm right here.


	9. Sway

Kyoya's tall, lean frame fills the doorway, one hand resting against the jamb. His Ouran duffel coat has been replaced by a fitted, navy blue peacoat, bottom button undone, Gucci striped scarf draped loosely around his neck. Haruhi does not expect him nor the way her heart rate speeds up upon seeing him on her threshold.

"Haruhi, are you alright?"  
"Senpai, what are you….doing here?"

Haruhi's voice drifts off as they step on one another's questions, the understated current she's been feeling for weeks making itself known once again. _He has to feel it, too._ She averts her eyes for a moment, but finds herself unable to resist allowing them to rise along the lines of his body until they meet his once more. If he notices, he gives no indication but the draw she feels is undeniable, making her nerves unsteady.

"Has something happened?" he queries, concern in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"You look as if you've been crying."

"Oh," she says, imagining only now how she must appear and running a hand through her hair, tucking a few stray strands behind one ear and resting that hand against her neck. "No, everything is fine?"

He cocks his head at her. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm telling you, Kyoya-senpai. I'm fine. I was dreaming, I think."

"A nightmare?"

"No." He regards her quizzically.

"Seems like-"  
"Would you-""

This time, they each stop and take a breath.

"Please…" Kyoya says, gesturing with his hand for Haruhi to speak.

"What brings you here on a quiet Sunday afternoon? I'm sure there are more interesting things you could be doing."

The brunet drops his hand from the jamb and straightens. His other hand holds out a bright blue folding umbrella to her. "This was found in my family's limo and I thought it might belong to you."

 _Of course. You'd never drop in just to visit_ _me_ _._ Haruhi takes the item in hand, dropping her eyes to regard it. "Thank you. I was wondering where this was. Guess I left it behind the day your driver took me home. Must have been a little distracted," she muses unaware of her allusion.

"Were you? I wouldn't want you to be less than focused."

She looks back at him. "Especially now, with finals coming up. I hear they're evil."

"They are - implicitly and with intent."

"That sounds ominous," she jokes with a smile that he returns. His matter-of-factness eases her nerves and she remembers her manners. "Would you like to come in? I'm expecting Dad any minute, but I don't think he'd mind you being here."

He pushes at his glasses. "Actually, I do have something to ask him. Are you certain your father won't take issue with you being home alone with me?"

"Don't you think you should just ask me?" She soughs through her nose.

"Ah so. In that case, are _you_ comfortable being alone with me?"

He asks the question simply, but she knows better. Kyoya is a master at keeping his emotions under wraps, whatever they may be.

"Why wouldn't I be? You've always been a gentleman."

"Have I? Some might differ."

They both know he's referring to Tamaki's overly protective behavior of her and his constant reminders about her debt.

"I trust you, Kyoya-senpai. Please come in. It's cold," she says. "You can take off your jacket inside."

She steps aside and allows him to pass by her. It seems as if he brushes his sleeve against her arm a shade too closely to be accidental, but she might be imagining it. The door clicks shut and she locks it.

"We don't have slippers, but socks are fine," she says. "I'm sure you remember."

"I also seem to remember asking you to call me Kyoya," he says as he turns to face her. "I like the way you say it," he admits in a quieter voice that has her second guessing again. He takes off the coat and scarf, handing them over to Haruhi.

"Right…Kyoya," feeling suddenly shy. _Why am I acting like an idiot schoolgirl? It's just senpai who happens to be male. Get a grip, Haruhi._

But she can't. All of her assertions about gender being meaningless sound hollow. If it doesn't matter, then why is she suddenly at a loss for words, overly conscious of where Kyoya is in relation to herself, aware of every detail about his person? And why, oh why, does the fact that they are, indeed, alone make her feel a little short of breath?

She hangs the expensive scarf and coat on a peg between the Ouran coat she only wears to school and the pile-lined hoodie she wears everywhere else. The contrast between her two personas and Kyoya's singular one is not lost on her.

A surreptitious glance at her blue jeans, button-down white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, polka dot socks and house slippers remind her that she's never been and never will be a fashionista, and that's okay. But what does Kyoya think about it? _Argh. I will not be one of those girls who looks for a guy's approval. No way, ever._ She squares her shoulders and turns back to see Kyoya watching her, his immediate focus unsettling, as always.

"Would you care for some tea?" she asks.

"Thank you. May I help?"

Haruhi is taken aback by his offer. "It's not necessary. You're a guest."

"I thought we agreed that wasn't the case between us."

"Did we?" She passes him just a shade too closely as she heads towards the kitchen. _I remember that. Didn't think you did._ "There's really not much to it."

The dining area is in the living room with a low-slung square table and rush stools set all around. "Please, be comfortable," Haruhi invites and Kyoya complies, ignoring the stool to drop into seiza position with ease.

He's casually dressed in black jeans and a textured loden sweater that probably just walked off the runway. His posture, his attitude, everything about him bespeaks wealth and comfort with it. His presence here without the rest of the entourage strikes her as incongruent and Haruhi once again considers the unlikelihood of them ever finding common ground, no matter how badly she may want it, or him. _Is what I want sensible or even realistic?_

Kyoya's smartphone rings. "I'm sorry. Excuse me." He pulls the device from his pocket and looks at the screen. A wrinkle creases the space between his brows. Haruhi turns away but watches him via a small mirror hung on the wall to the left of the sink that inadvertently reflects his image.

She's never really studied him before, but now her eyes linger. His hair is darkest black and perfectly styled to appear a bit shaggy. _Just how much does that haircut cost I wonder? It does look good and his hair is probably really soft._ Her fingers twitch. Wearing a body-hugging sweater, his broad shoulders are defined. A tapered waist leads to narrow hips and legs that go on forever. _I like tall and he does fill out those jeans rather nicely._

She sighs and picks up the kettle, holding it beneath the faucet to fill it with cold water. She's known the Host Club long enough to know that none of them are shy about their bodies. _Kaoru and Hikaru live for opportunities to undress and Tamaki-senpai is a certified exhibitionist. Mori-senpai is damn near perfect and Honey-senpi, despite his size, is all muscle. Now Kyoya…_ a slight blush rises to her cheeks, aware that her fantasies of late have featured him exclusively, dressed or un. The water sloshes over the opening at the top of the kettle and she gives a small shout, turning off the faucet and pouring off the excess before covering the kettle and setting it on an active burner.

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the apartment is small and sound carries easily through the two rooms...

"I'm sorry, but I can't tonight," she hears Kyoya saying. Pause. "Tomorrow, at school." Pause. "Tamaki, you're just going to have to figure this one out on your own until then." He sounds a bit exasperated. "I'm not angry. I'm just very certain about it." Pause. "Of course. I'm hanging up now." Then she hears a deep sigh.

 _What happened with them? They've had arguments, but senpai seems troubled._ She picks up two cups with saucers and spoons.

"Haruhi," Kyoya calls and she starts, rattling the spoons resting on the saucers held in hand. "You really aren't okay, are you? What's going on?"

She turns around. "I could ask you the same question. I overheard. I'm sorry," she says before placing the items towards the middle of the table and sitting down, knees together, ankles angled to one side.

"Oh, that? Just Tamaki being melodramatic. Sometimes he doesn't understand that I may wish to spend time with someone other than himself. He'll get over it."

"So, you're busy tonight." She leans onto the elbow of the arm that rests on the table, fingers splayed in an unconscious gesture of communication, reaching towards the brunet.

"It's still tentative, but it looks promising," he replies as if it makes no difference. He pockets the phone and places his own arm near hers, her thumb and his pinky just inches apart. "So, Haruhi, what's going on that's got you upset?"

She echoes his sentiment from weeks ago. "Why do you care?"

"A distracted host is a poor host which may lead to unhappy customers and, subsequently, less revenue. That's my official Vice-presidential answer. My personal response," he says looking over the top of his glasses at her, "is that I'm interested," he concludes, voice low and much too inviting. She can almost hear that voice asking her to do rather indecent things.

His hand reaches out to rest on her lower arm. The simple contact captures her attention, but she can't look at him. Instead, she looks at his hand, fine-boned with long fingers, an artist's hand that contrasts starkly with the business-like attitude he presents to the world.

"And so the tables have turned," she thinks aloud.

"Turnabout _is_ fair play."

Haruhi's distracted mind hears 'foreplay' and her head lifts sharply, eyes wide. "What?" she asks, somewhat startled.

"I said turnabout is fair play."

"Oh," she says, relief in her voice, though her cheeks color.

"What did you think I said?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She averts her face wishing she could crawl under the table and disappear. Thankfully, he lets it go. Hopefully, he doesn't make anything of it, though it is Kyoya who notices everything.

"It's obvious something is on you mind, Haruhi. Is everything alright with your father?"

"He's fine." She takes in a breath and releases it. "It's actually my mom who's on my mind." _And you._

"Ahh. The anniversary of her death is upcoming, isn't it?"

Haruhi is taken aback, returns her gaze to him. "Dad told you that?"

"He's just concerned that you never talk about it."

She dons her brave front. "I can handle it."

"I believe you, but while you may be able to handle it, you don't have to handle it alone. And if you don't want to burden him, you can tell me. And it stays between us. That's how it works." A subtle smile plays on his lips as he throws her words to him back at her.

She scans his face looking to ascertain motive. _Who are you? Have you always been this way and I never noticed or has some alien lifeform inhabited your body? Maybe it's a ploy of some kind._ She can't help but test the waters of his sudden generosity and playfulness. "Worried you might be indebted to me?"

"I already am." He says it as a simple statement of fact and she can't hide her surprise as his hand slides closer to her own, his fingers spanning to rest atop her hand, the side of his thumb pressed against her wrist.

"For what?" she asks, unable to determine how, if at all, he has any sort of obligation towards her.

"You don't realize, do you, the effect you've had on… the club."

"On the club? It's good, I hope." She's aiming for detached curiosity with her words, all the while enjoying the warmth that seeps from his hand onto hers, wondering what he actually meant to say.

"I meant it when I said you were a natural host. That was almost a year ago and since then, you've proven yourself resourceful, hard-working and uncomplaining, for the most part. It's quite refreshing after working with the Hitachiins for nearly double that length of time and enduring their nonsense and their whining."

She smiles. "They are somewhat immature, but sad. I just want to see them happier, especially Hikaru. And they do bring something different to the club."

"No question, though what they bring is usually more trouble than its worth."

His candor emboldens her to ask questions she wouldn't have dared just a month ago. "Don't you like them?"

"They're alright."

"Do you think they're as close as they seem to be?"

"Well, if it's not genuine then they've mastered the art of deception to perfection. It _was_ Tamaki who instructed them in their little charade, though it wouldn't surprise me if their brotherly love act was more than just an act, except that's their business and none of mine. They're high maintenance, but they also bring in clients."

"Do you think about the club's finances all the time?"

"Someone has to. Tamaki is utterly incapable and uninterested in such practical matters as paying bills or drumming up business. He is, and forever will be, a dreamer of impossible dreams that he somehow manifests into reality. It's quite a gift."

"So he dreams and you manifest? You're a good friend to him, aren't you?"

Kyoya withdraws his hand, looks away and drops his chin. "You have no idea." Something about the way he says that makes her wonder how far out on a limb Tamaki has made him go in their friendship. And again she senses discomfort in him. _It's not my business._ Still, it troubles her to see Kyoya downcast and she misses the touch of his hand.

"How do you feel about Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai?" she says.

He regards her once more. "They're reliable and round out the complement. It should be irrelevant, but given the way elite society views alternative lifestyles, it's best for them to maintain a low profile."

She cocks her head and pauses. _I've often wondered._ "You mean to say they're…"

"Hopelessly devoted to one another, whatever that means for them."

"You're pretty open-minded, aren't you? And perceptive. And tolerant."

"Skills developed out of necessity and applied in like manner."

"Or maybe just who you are beneath the façade."

"And just what kind of façade might that be, Miss I-pretend-to-be-a-boy-every-day?"

 _Careful, Haruhi._ But it's better than depression. "Oh, the one that pretends nothing really matters and it's all effortless. Meanwhile, you care enough to work extremely hard to ensure that it looks effortless - at least when it comes to Host Club though I suspect you do it because it involves your friends."

"Hmph. So, I'm open-minded, perceptive and tolerant? I was none of those things the day Tamaki dragged me to the mall, was I? In fact, if memory serves, I was rather rude to you."

"The guys told me they dragged you out against your will. I'd have been annoyed, too. It's not like they haven't pulled stunts like that on me, after all."

"In that case, if you would accept a belated apology, you have one."

"Accepted, and it only took you five months to give it."

"I'm improving then?" He arches his brow.

Her face scrunches into a small moue. "Kinda, sorta," she teases. "We've both changed a lot in the last year. Guess it means we're growing as individuals."

"Unfortunately, my father does not approve of personal growth unless it advances our family's reputation or fortune."

"He's hard on you, isn't he?"

"It's what he believes is best and it may well be. Hoping he'll change is no different than expecting a fish to act like a bird."

"That doesn't make it right and the longer you allow him to dictate your life, the harder it becomes to live it as your own."

His expression grows disagreeable, his eyes showing a flash of defensive anger. _Damn_. She reaches out and touches his arm, needing to make contact before he withdraws just as he's begun to open up to her.

"I don't mean to make you angry, Kyoya, but it must be difficult even if you do enjoy the challenge. I'm just saying that you have a choice about how you live your life. I've said so before."

His eyes soften and after a bit, the ire drains from him, the set of his shoulders easing. "Families are complicated. Isn't that something else you've said?"

"I remember," she says quietly.

His eyes cast downward for several seconds. She waits, patient in the extreme. _What inner demons do you have to quell? I know I have mine. I just wish you'd trust me._

"I remember that, and a lot more about that day," he says before lifting his eyes slowly to meet hers once more. There, she reads his interest loud and clear.

"So do I," she says without hesitation, sliding her hand down until it rests atop his. His hand arches slightly beneath her palm and she expects he'll pull away. Instead, he twists it until their palms meet on a perpendicular and his fingers wrap around her hand entire. He slowly leans towards her tugging her hand towards him as he does so, forcing her to lean in, too.

It's just a matter of time until lips will follow hands.

End - Chapter 9 - Sway

* * *

Sway \- Bic Runga [Haruhi-centric]

Don't stray. Don't ever go away.  
I should be much too smart for this.  
You know it gets the better of me.  
Sometimes, when you and I collide,  
I fall into an ocean of you.  
Pull me out in time.  
Don't let me drown, let me down.  
I say it's all because of you.

And here I go, losing my control.  
I'm practicing your name  
So I can say it to your face.  
It doesn't seem right  
To look you in the eye.  
Let all the things you mean to me  
Come tumbling out my mouth.  
Indeed it's time. Tell you why  
I say it's infinitely true.

Say you'll stay.  
Don't come and go like you do.  
Sway my way.  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.

And there's no cure  
And no way to be sure  
Why everything's turned inside out,  
Instilling so much doubt.  
It makes me so tired.  
I feel so uninspired.  
My head is battling with my heart.  
My logic has been torn apart.  
And now it all turns sour.  
Come sweeten every afternoon.

Say you'll stay. (Refrain - 2x)  
Don't come and go like you do.  
Sway my way.  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.

It's all because of you. (2x)

Now it all turns sour.  
Come sweeten every afternoon.  
It's time. Tell you why  
I say it's infinitely true.

Say you'll stay. (Refrain 2x)  
Don't come and go like you do.  
Sway my way.  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.

It's all because of you. (3x)


	10. Pieces

The air is suddenly very still and Einstein's theory becomes fact - time is relative. Haruhi knows this because she's lost all sense of time, focused only on Kyoya's gentle pull of her hand towards him as he leans in. Up close, the lenses of his glasses can't reflect or hide his feelings and what she sees in their smoky depths is a fire that burns beneath the cool exterior. A fire that burns for her. She takes in and releases a sharp breath.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, a high-pitched scree gains her attention. It's the tea kettle coming to a boil, though she can't say how long it's been whistling. Her eyes dart to the side and back to Kyoya's, a small look of apology on her face as she lifts her free hand and lets it drop backwards to point at the offending cookware.

"Let me just get that," she says in a distracted manner. His expression doesn't change but she sees the bare nod of his head. Reluctantly, she pulls her hand from his. At the counter, she turns down the burner to simmer and stares into space. _I must be crazy. This will never work out. We're too young. We're headed in different directions. We live in different worlds._ She pulls open the cabinet at eye level. _We're friends. Isn't that enough?_ She removes a canister, opens it only to discover it's empty. "What? I just bought some last week." Ever practical, mundane concerns distract her momentarily. She looks up and sees a sealed package on the top shelf. Without turning around she says, "My dad has a habit of moving things around without telling me. Hang on."

She reaches up and plucks at the edge of the bag with her fingertips. Instead of slipping forwards, it slips back. A frustrated groan escapes her. Standing on tip-toe she tries again, but the bag pushes even further back. Then Kyoya is behind her, reaching up without effort, retrieving the bag and setting it on the counter before her.

"Uh, um…thank you," she stammers, his warmth at her back refocusing her attention immediately and kicking up her pulse rate.

"Not a problem," he answers, his voice low.

She expects him to step back, but he doesn't. He's exactly where she wants him to be, but now that he's there, she doesn't know what to do. Without thinking she pushes backwards in a weak attempt to move away. Instead, she feels his body press closer, his hands coming to rest on either side of her to grip the counter's edge. Her breath comes shorter and she wets her lips gone dry.

A strange sensation begins to overtake her - it's probably just endorphins penetrating her brain cells, but Haruhi feels a little reckless knowing that all she need do is lean back and he's there. He's there. She doesn't dare speak. _This isn't like me at all._

"Haruhi," he says softly, his head dipping to the side of her head. "Let's be honest."

"Hh?" is all she can mange, growing still but for the subtle tremor that's overtaken her.

"Because I was less than honest when I said you've had an impact on the club."

Her brow crinkles. "Oh?"

"Of course you _have_ ," he says with his mouth just above her ear. "And I appreciate your contributions. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that." His breath is warm and his hands move to hold her by the upper arms, keeping her in place. "Truth is, you've had an impact on _me_ ," he continues his voice nearly a whisper. "I can't stop thinking about you." Her eyelids droop at the shiver that shimmers throughout her body.

Haruhi is stunned to learn that his feelings mirror her own. _That means…_ He pulls away and her thought is disturbed, all energy channeled into the overwhelming need to have him close again. She's bereft until she feels his lips press a gentle kiss into her hair. She leans back into him, relieved and unable to refrain from making contact.

He slowly turns her in place, hands guiding her until she faces him. She's hesitant to meet his gaze, but she needs to know. She's seen Kyoya's predatory eyes when he's fixated on something and she needs to understand where he's coming from if they are to move forward. She looks up not knowing what to expect, but his regard is strangely mild, almost…open.

"Here we are, again," he says.

"Only now I've kissed a boy." She groans inwardly. _Talk about lame. He'll think I'm an idiot like Tamaki-senpai._

"Any good?" he asks as if inquiring about the school's lunch menu, but a smile pulls at one corner of his mouth.

"Not bad, but then what do I know? I'm not very experienced in these things." She tries to sound casual.

"No," he says. "You aren't like most sixteen year old girls, that's certain."

His eyes take on a slightly more intense quality. A flicker of insecurity and one particular possibility plagues her. She considers not mentioning it, but can't refrain.

"Does that mean I'm just a curiosity, a commoner you find intriguing enough to seduce but no more than that?" She tries to keep her tone even, not accusatory, but she sees the flash of hurt in his eyes.

His grip on her tightens just a bit and he leans his face towards hers. "Is that what you believe?"

Her gaze focuses intensely on his, as if she can glean the truth from him that way. "What else am I to think? We've known each other for nearly a year and it's only in the last two weeks that you say you've been thinking about me and that, after kissing me. Maybe that's all you want."

He lifts his head and breathes out through his nose, but he isn't defensive. He pushes at his glasses, allowing his hands to drop to his side. He pushes them into his pockets and Haruhi wonders if she's made a mistake.

"From your perspective," he says, "it must be suspect. Experience is the best teacher in such things, but your posing as a boy has made advances from real boys non-existent. I suppose I am drawn to your naiveté, but that's not a bad thing. I just never acted on it, for various reasons, until recently."

She's both flattered and annoyed. "You suppose? So you're still not sure about it, hedging your bet like I'm a gamble or a business transaction." She presses her hands against his chest and pushes him back an inch or two. "I'm not a transaction, Kyoya. I'm a person. And what's up with saying I'm naive? That's just rude."

He's calm in the face of her irritation, but there's a shift in his posture - a few moments of indecision as his mouth opens, then closes again. "You're right," he admits, at last. "On both counts and I apologize. All I'm trying to say is that you don't play head games the way other girls do _."_

"I couldn't if I tried and I don't want to try. I just want to be me."

He gives a small smile. "Even so, you're still somewhat of a puzzle. I want to know you better, but I don't blame you for being cautious. I don't have the warm fuzzy image others do. In fact, I'm a hard ass, plain and simple."

Her irritation fizzles. "You're a puzzle to me, too. And I don't mind you being a hard ass as long as you're honest with me. It's what's inside a person what matters most and I know you're a good person. Sorry if I was impolite." She regrets being cross with him, but he might as well know who she is from the get-go. _And if that's the end of us, so be it._

"It's no more than what I expect from you."

"What does _that_ mean?"

He cocks his head and regards her. "In all the time I've known you, you've stayed true to yourself despite my often scathing attempts to rattle you into revealing weakness. You've managed the overly tactile Hitachiins, resisted Tamaki's charms, impressed Mori, and I think Honey wants to adopt you. All this by keeping your head on straight and your values intact. I admire that."

"Do you?" She feels the weight of his compliment as one not easily given, though she's tempted to continue poking at him to even the score, if only a little.

He un-pockets his hands and crosses his arms, adding with a sough of breath, "And the fact that you're willing to call me on my...bad habits...is what I..need."

She feels the difficulty he's having in opening himself to her. _What you need?_ He's never shared this much of himself in the entire time she's known him. _But…  
_ "What about Tamaki-senpai?" she asks, taken aback by the startled look on his face that he quickly brings under control.

"What about him?" He sounds cool enough, but it's a little forced.

"He's your best friend. Doesn't he call you on your bad habits?"

An odd chuckle emerges from him as he looks away, then back. "Let's just say that what I thought might be an obstacle in approaching you is no longer an impediment."

"What are you talking about? Who's an obstacle? Tamaki-senpai? What's he got to do with it, besides thinking he's my dad which he's not and driving me generally crazy?"

He considers her for a few moments. "Do you always speak your mind?"

"What's the point in doing otherwise?"

"I happen to agree with you, though it takes a strong ego to face life realistically and most people are weak."

"People are who they are. The real trick is finding the positive in the not-so-positive. For example, Tamaki-senpai is melodramatic, but genuinely interested in people. The twins are twisted, but their bond is unshakeable; there's something noble in that. Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai are a closed circuit, but they're scholar-athletes who inspire their classmates."

"And my redeeming quality?" He tries to make it sound off-handed, but his focus reveals his attention.

 _Aside from how you make me feel?_ She smiles with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. "You have a lot of qualities that I respect, especially…" she pauses, aware now of how he views her frankness, "the way you insinuate yourself into a person's thoughts."

His head straightens and she notes the subtle flare of his nostrils, the way his pupils open just a bit more. "Yours, by chance?"

"To be honest, yes. So, now, will you answer a question for me?"

"Hmmm?"

Looking into his discerning eyes, she reminds herself that she's ready for something other than friendship. "I was wondering...could you please kiss me again?"

His smile is sweet and dangerous simultaneously. He doesn't say a word, but unwinds his arms and steps in closer. Their eyes are locked on one another and she feels herself short of breath as he takes her face between his hands, closing the gap between them. She's trembling when he tips it upwards and, as her eyes close, feels his lips meet hers. She slides her arms around his waist but holds herself separate from him.

His early kisses are soft teases against her closed lips that only serve to inflame her need. Her frustration reaches a breaking point and she tugs his lower lip between hers and deepens the kiss herself. His response is immediate as strong arms enfold her and she surrenders into him, their bodies conforming to one another in a close embrace. Their mouths are melded, soft and warm with a gentle push-pull that intensifies the sensations that rocket to her core igniting something deep and languorous; indigo swirls of relaxation colliding with whorls of scarlet pleasure that mix and flush through her, desire lifting sleepy eyes in awakening.

When she attempts to pull back, he doesn't allow it. His lips slowly capture over and again her upper, then her lower lip both slightly parted as she tries to draw air, clutching at his back to stay balanced under his tantalizing assault. The full press of his body against hers feels incredibly right and she grows a little weak at the knees. _I'm such a cliché but please, please don't stop._ She can't describe how she feels because it's all so new, but she's certain she'll never grow tired of it.

They break contact and without a word, Kyoya takes her hand and tugs her into the living room. With his back against the wall, they slide to the floor until they're in one another's embrace, their chests pressed together as they entwine arms. Her small frame is warm against his lanky coolness. With her eyes closed, she doesn't know when he removes his glasses but they're missing when she lifts a hand to comb through the silky hair she only imagined between her fingers before. His own hand snakes through her hair at the back of her head, coaxing her head back to taste her mouth at a new angle while his other hand strokes down her arm and along her waist, then stops.

Brief kisses evolve into longer ones. When his tongue licks against her lips, she greets it with her own. Neither of them dominates for very long as they explore mouths through a slide of tongues, a graze of teeth and the tug of lips wet with shared need. A ribbon of heat wends to her core and moisture seeps between her legs. She can't help but voice her heightened state of sensitivity with an involuntary mewl. _This is what I want._

She's lit from within, reservations lost in sensation, lost in him. Her hand drops against his chest, over his heart where she feels the pounding that matches her own. His lifts his head and they're both softly panting. Haruhi's eyes remain half lidded as her fingers rise to trace his mouth.

"Am I dreaming or am I awake?" she wonders staring up into his handsome face.

"Which do you prefer?" he asks before taking her index finger into his mouth and sucking on it.

"Oh," she breathes as she withdraws her finger..."I want this to be real." He takes the next one and repeats his libation..."or I don't ever want to wake up."...the next..."Kyoya."...the last. She's weak, breathing shallow, surprised at the cravings igniting in her body.

"Um-hmm," he agrees before feeding on her mouth again. She's somewhat faint as he steals her breath over and over. There's no mistaking his arousal that presses against her thigh or the way she wonders what it would feel like to have him touch her and for her to touch him more intimately. Regardless of where it all ends, she imprints these moments into memory.

End - Chapter 10 - Pieces

* * *

Pieces \- Cider Sky [Haruhi x Kyoya-centric]

From head to heart  
I've never felt the ocean floor.  
To start, I've never been spun like this before.  
I'm going to blame it all on you.

And this beat so hot;  
I'm never gonna come back down the slide.  
I've never felt oh so bold, so shy.  
So tell me what you want to do.

I don't ever feel lost when you're holding my hand.  
All the world can hear us  
When I'm holding pieces of you,  
Pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly and I am falling.  
Now I'm falling for pieces of you.

The way you hit my heart  
I know it's not logical.  
It's like an arrow shot through the dark so hard  
The colors all fall apart.

I say it's impossible  
How everything feels so magical.  
You turn up all the lights. It's beautiful.  
I fall into the moon.

I don't ever feel lost when  
I'm holding pieces of you,  
Pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly and I am falling.  
Now I'm falling.

Follow, follow, follow and you run to me.  
Echo, echo. I know this is meant to be.  
Follow, follow, follow and you run to me.  
You run to me.

Pieces of you. Pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly and I am falling.  
Now I'm falling for pieces of you, pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly.  
I am falling. Now I'm falling for pieces of you.


	11. Long Shot

Intimate electro-chemical impulses of mind, body and emotion spark a lightning storm in Kyoya's mind, arcing fiercely to connect that which is unconnected. Pleasure, worry, want and care blend in the beginnings of…love? No, he won't put that name to it, yet, but the possibility exists.

Haruhi pulls away and he already knows he'll never get enough of her kisses, will always want more, wants more right now _._ Thoughts usually crisp and defined are foggy with desire. _I want you._ He pulls her further into his lap, pressing his lips into the soft niche of her neck, inhaling her scent mixed with a simple two-note fragrance she must only wear outside of school. _How did I wait so long for this?_ Her hand on his chest feels possessive. _How did I miss the changes happening right under my nose?_ He feels her pushing him back. _I really am the_ _idiot._

"We need to- slow down," Haruhi says breathlessly.

 _Not…yet,_ his brain processes in slow motion, but he drags himself away from what is already his drug of choice with a small groan, lifting his head, his breathing somewhat calmer.

She leans her cheek against his shoulder, sliding her hand around his neck. He's surprised to find that he likes the way she clings to him, her slight form triggering protective feelings thoroughly unlike his compulsion to safeguard investments or look out for his friends. She's a friend, too, but he wants more than that from her. All the hosts did, but somewhere along the way, the idea of anyone other than himself with Haruhi became unbearable. _But what of Tamaki?_ The unforgettable face of the blond in the throes of passion come to mind. _Step off, Suoh._ He wonders if he's ruined their friendship by giving in to Tamaki's needs, but also why it felt so…natural…to him _._ He soughs with some force.

"Are you okay?" Haruhi asks.

His attitude and expression soften. "You're here with me. How could I be otherwise?" He pulls her into his lap, anchoring her in his arms. He focuses on the way she feels, her warm presence warding off other thoughts best kept at bay. He holds her closer and she hums.

 _I'll win you over yet, Fujioka Haruhi._ He has her attention and now her affection, but she's not like other girls he's known. _I wonder if she'll be as challenging between the sheets as she is otherwise. Hnn. Should be fun to find out. But slo-wly, Ootori. Move too fast and you'll lose her. She's a nice girl. No. She's a very nice girl_.

"I've been wanting this," he breathes in admission against her temple.

"Then why..."

"Haven't I acted sooner? It doesn't matter. What does matter is what happens next."

"What do you mean?" She pulls back to look him in the eye.

"I mean, we're just getting started."

"I said slow, remember?"

"I'm talking about tomorrow, at school. I heard what you said, Haruhi."

"Oh," she says, dropping her eyes and biting her lip.

"But I'm open to renegotiation at any time," he says, fumbling with one hand for his glasses.

He's poised to put them back on when she says, "Wait."

"What is it?"

She lightly grabs the hand that holds the glasses. "Let me see you without them." He allows her a few seconds but grows uncomfortable under her gaze, her words too similar to Tamaki's from Friday night. "What's wrong?" she asks, noting his distress.

"I'd like to put them on now, please." He resets the glasses on his nose without waiting for her response and feels better with his personal shield in place. She pulls back and looks at him. "I'm fine." The soulful eyes of the girl in his arms makes him feel as if he could tell her anything and she might just understand. _Would you be hurt if you knew what happened between us? Angry? Disgusted? What would you say?_ He decides. _Best not to say anything at all._

She nestles back against him and they rest, hands lightly clutching, fingers randomly stroking one another's, soaking in the newness of what's emerging between them. He enjoys being able to simply watch her in a way he's never had cause nor permission to do. _Pretty, no matter how she rebuffs the idea._ Beneath the softer features of youth waits a beautiful woman yet to emerge. And though her under-developed body of last year fooled the vast majority accustomed to believing what they're told, maturity is bringing the ability to hide her gender to a close though _how anyone paying attention could ever think she's a boy is ludicrous. Her movements have always belied her gender. Boys move like boys and Haruhi…doesn't. Never has. She may lack training in etiquette and poise, but her charms are obvious to anyone with a shrewd eye._

His own shrewd eyes drop to where the top buttons of her blouse are undone, the fabric gaping so he unwittingly sees the curved rise of a breast covered in a basic white bra. _A sensible choice to be expected, but still so very sexy._ He imagines the contours of her breast without fabric, nipple raised with his mouth on it. _Stop before you embarrass yourself._ But his brain has taken a vacation as his pulse races and he continues indulging his imagination.

Actually, he finds a woman's derrière to be her most enticing attribute. Haruhi's gift in that regard has only been recently revealed by the fitted dress she recently modeled, disengaging his brain from his netbook to a more organic location for some time - a rare feat indeed, demolishing permanently any idea that he could step away without sampling. And now that lovely bottom is resting on his thighs. He releases a small audible sigh.

"Kyoya?" Her soft contralto cuts through his ever-present thoughts and he looks into her large, luminous eyes, so trusting and without pretense. No expectations of him but gentlemanly behavior. He feels oddly short of breath.

"What- is it?" She shifts in his lap, the sliding motion of her denimed legs over his sensitized crotch amping his blood as he thinks about how close certain body parts are at this very moment. The surefire combination of physical nearness and mental readiness further rushes blood from his brain to his groin and he feels his jeans grow more uncomfortable.

 _Stay cool, Ootori. She'll clock you if you don't and all your efforts will be for naught._ It just feels so good to be turned on by a live girl instead of the cheap imitation that porn offers, useful as it is. And when said live girl is Fujioka Haruhi, he can't be held accountable for behaving out of character.

"Does this mean…" She pauses. He waits. "What I mean is…" Another pause.

 _So, not quite as bold as either of us thought, hm? Or perhaps you just want me to take the lead. I like the sound of that, but there's no reason not to have a little fun with it._ He adopts a serious face as he deadpans, "If you're asking if today's conduct constitutes a shift in our relationship, I would have to say...perhaps."

"What?" her surprise is genuine and her irritation more so. He stifles a smile.

"Haruhi, if we are to begin a more than 'just friends' relationship, there are certain things I will require of you." He pushes at his glasses while her back stiffens. She's not angry, just focused. _Not jumping to conclusions. Good._

She puts up a hand. "Wait. Before you go on, let me tell you what I require, shall I?"

"By all means." _This should be interesting._

She moves off his lap and he briefly regrets his tactic. _Still, one always starts with the end in mind making interim setbacks a learning tool._ With the short term goal of kissing her again and the long term goal being obvious, he's curious to know her thoughts. And being able to roam her body with his eyes openly is a step in the right direction. _Merit isn't always monetary._ This, he's always known.

Haruhi stands above him and, for a change, he's the one who has to look up. "So, Ootori-san, it is with respect and courtesy that I inform you that this person named Fujioka Haruhi is not to be taken lightly nor for granted or to be treated any differently than before. Is my debt still in place?"

"Of course, unless you want to-"

"Don't say it," she commands.

 _Pay with your body?_ He puts up two hands in surrender.

He's heard her stern voice before, usually chastising the twins. He hears it again now, modified. "I will not resort to hiding the fact that we're together, but I don't want to advertise it, either. Our parents should know and our friends. I want to be able to spend time with you, doing things together and learning about one another."

"Anything else?" he asks without inflection. _I so want to kiss you right now._

"As the club's director and as director there only," she says with a pointed look at him as his brows arch. "I'm letting you know that I'm keeping my current club standing, wardrobe and clients. I hate that ugly yellow dress."

"Don't we all, though pale blue blazers are hardly couture." He winks at her.

She smiles at that, her lecture easing. "So, until we figure out how we can do this without creating a scene, you'll have to accept being thought of as gay at Ouran, or at least bisexual." She stops then and her shoulders sag. She turns away from him and looks out the sliding doors that lead to the small balcony. When she speaks again, her voice holds a trace of sadness. "Frankly," she says, "I don't know how this is going to work."

He shares her concerns, but he's determined. "Breaking up with me already?"

She turns back, eyes bright. "Maybe we should keep things quiet. O-oh. I don't know."

Her unhappiness troubles him. _It can't be too long before everything comes to light. And if it will make her happy..._ "Hmmm," he muses, rising to stand beside her. "I can't say that being seen as a gay couple isn't without its risks; however, we can always opt for your coming out, as it were, as a female. In the meantime, the more overt behaviors inherent in dating can remain discreet." He caresses her cheek.

"I'm not big on romance anyway. I could do that."

"Haruhi, I don't do things half-way."

"But you're okay with that arrangement?" His hand drops to her shoulder.

"There will be conditions." She nods and he continues, "Since our weekday contact will be limited to time spent at club, I would suggest we meet unobserved before school starts." Her brows lift in surprise. "Make time in the prep room before club." Her eyes grow wider. "Or after hours. That's how we started, after all."

He can almost see the images playing in her mind and definitely the ones in his. She blinks several times and he allows his features to soften, the sides of his mouth turning up. Her cheeks grow pink as she realizes he's teasing, but also means exactly what he says.

"Must you always have an answer?" she asks.

"It seemed you were looking for one. I simply accommodated."

"On your terms."

"I've agreed to yours; agreeing to mine seems equitable. Weekends, of course, are another matter."

"And must you be enigmatic?

"Is that what I am?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she chides. "I do think it's more de-fense than of-fense, anyway."

"If you expect me to validate your Freudian meanderings regarding my personality or state of mind, know that I've already been analyzed and deemed of sound mind. Ambitious, secretive, pragmatic and overly intellectual, perhaps, but this is who I am - an Ootori."

"And I'm a Fujioka whose family encourages accepting people for who they are and working hard to make your dreams come true."

"Noble attributes. Does cross-dressing also run in the family?" Her startled expression is enough to prompt an immediate, "I'm sorry, Haruhi. I apologize for that remark." _Shite._ Her startled expression fades, replaced by crinkles around her eyes as she subtly squints and screws up delectable lips. She crosses her arms and he drops his hand to his side. _I am so dead._

He says nothing as their first misunderstanding as a couple plays out. He can do no more and her response will be telling. "Well," she says after due consideration, "at least your timing of apologies has improved." Her features relax into neutrality. "Forgiven."

The tension in his shoulders leaks away. _Just like that? It can't be that easy._ He remembers how his parents fight - his father's disparaging words, his mother's tears, then no talking for days at a time. _But I don't want that, either._ He just wishes he could make her smile again.

"You've a sharp mind, Kyoya. What does your qualitative risk analysis tell you about us?"

He's taken aback. "I'm impressed you know that term."

"I am taking Business Admin and I'm very good at Math. The odds aren't favorable for us, are they?"

"We're a long shot, but not a guaranteed fail." _No point in ignoring the truth._

"Will our dating hurt the club?"

"You really care about it, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I care about the guys and our guests. I enjoy it, Kyoya. I really do. But most of all, you care about it. That makes it important to me."

If not for the fact that he's a master of cool, his jaw would have dropped. The idea of someone considering his feelings isn't altogether unusual. Tamaki does, often enough, the other hosts to varying degrees. Fuyumi tries, too. But now, here, to have his feelings used as a benchmark for someone _else's_ happiness is novel and he feels a mild constriction around his heart without knowing why.

What he does know is that he's been captured by the least likely female at Ouran Academy to snag the elusive Ootori Kyoya. _Could she be that clever? Or am I just that enamored?_ The freshness of it requires thought he's unable to give right now, so he sets it aside, responding in a level voice, "I don't favor hosts dating. It creates outside alliances and triggers guest jealousies. But then, I am a club officer so I can make an exception based on the fact that you're a host yourself and that you don't act like a typical girl."

She rolls her eyes. "Gee thanks, I guess."

"I mean that as compliment. Your body language and movement have always been feminine, at least to me. But from an emotional or behavioral standpoint you're atypical. You don't fawn or flirt, you're unconcerned with frivolous things, and you're certainly not in need of rescuing or coddling." _But enough talk, Ootori._ He reaches out a hand which Haruhi takes, allowing him to pull her back into his arms.

"I did say slow down, remember?" she reminds, her arms wrapped around his waist, eyes shining, lips inviting. Her smile has returned.

"We'll take it as slow as you need. You'll just have to forgive me if I forget." Their faces slant towards one another, noses rubbing. "We'll do things your way until we don't. And for the record, you're definitely an intelligent and beautiful young woman, but I knew that _and_ who you were from the start."

She murmurs, "So you knew there was no way in hell I could pay for that antique vase I broke?" Her words puff breath against his mouth.

"You mean the reproduction?" _Uh-oh. Did I just admit that?_

"No way," Her wide eyes stare into his.

"Of course, it did have value; just...not 800,000 yen." The last three words are glossed over.

"How much?" she queries in a gravelly voice. _Damn._

"Value? Oh, I'd say 150,000 yen, give or take a few hundred." Their foreheads are pressed together. "But how else was I going to make sure you stayed around long enough for me to figure you out? I told you, you're a puzzle and I enjoy solving them." He reads evaluation in her eyes about his revelation.

"Anything else I should know?" she asks evenly. _How to answer without being dishonest?_

"In due time. I'm being up front. Isn't that what you want?"

"It is. And I like solving puzzles, too, so we're alike in that regard. I'm also thinking my debt is repaid."

"We'll have to recalculate, later. Meanwhile," he says in a quieter manner, the tip of his tongue daubing his upper lip. "Maybe we put our pieces together to mutual advantage."

"As in…" She adds, her breath coming shorter.

Slowly, he lists, "Female, male. Lock…key. You." He places a small kiss on her lips. "Me." He captures her lips again and lingers. Despite his intention to cool things down, they're reheating quickly.

Still caught in her spell, Kyoya fails to pick up the sound of footsteps approaching outside the kitchen window but Haruhi recognizes Ranka's voice singing a pop tune, growing louder by the second.

"Oh, for feng shui!" she exclaims. She pulls away, combing fingers through her hair. The sharp sound of a key rattling the door fills the apartment along with Kyoya's quiet laughter.

End - Chapter 11 - Long Shot

* * *

Long Shot \- Nevertheless [Kyoya-centric]

What if the fire burns out?  
What if we're left without  
Anyone to call our own?  
You've got it figured out.  
If ever you're in doubt,  
You never have to be alone.

People they come and people they go.  
I could be wrong but there's one thing I know.

CHORUS  
It's a long shot (baby).  
Some day both of us will die.  
So I was thinking maybe,  
I could be your semi-perfect guy.  
You don't know me (baby),  
But I was hoping we could try  
for a long shot, you and I.

What if we take a chance?  
What if you break your plans  
And let me sweep you off your feet?  
You say you hate romance,  
But I'm a persistent man  
And I want you here with me.

People they come and people they go.  
I could be wrong but there's one thing I know.

CHORUS

I've been praying all my life for love that's true,  
But I never thought I'd get a girl like you.  
Oh, can't you see heaven sent you to me?

CHORUS (2x)


	12. You'll Never Be Alone

Haruhi turns, glances at Kyoya, body returned into a proper seiza position at the table. She groans. With one deft move, she steps in, flips the newspaper he's not actually reading right side up and skips back into the kitchen to spoon tea into the ceramic teapot with shaky fingers. _Not so cool after all, eh?_

The entry door swings wide and Ranka enters. Haruhi faces him with a smile. "Hey, Dad. Welcome back." Kyoya stands and moves to meet the okama with a formal bow of respect. _Smooth move, Kyoya. Well, at least Dad seems pleased._

"Oh my, hello Kyoya-kun. Haruhi," he says looking at her, "I thought you weren't expecting visitors today."

"Uhhhh…" she utters, her mind suddenly blank.

"Fujioka-sama, I must say you're looking very well today," Kyoya says in perfect host fashion. "That's quite a becoming outfit on you." Haruhi returns to her task, filling the teapot with boiled water and covering it to steep.

"This old thing?" Ranka presses a hand to his own cheek. "You're sweet to say so."

"And you wear it so well, Fujioka-sama, I'd never have guessed," he says, flattering the man.

"Please call me Ranka. I've told you so before."

Kyoya's reputation for staying calm, cool and collected is well-deserved as he's unobtrusively positioned himself between Ranka and Haruhi, one hand behind his back giving Haruhi a thumbs up.

She sees it and smiles as she turns her back to them to retrieve her dad's favorite mug from the bottom shelf of the cabinet. She adds it the cups on the table, expression unreadable. Ranka sits down cross-legged where Kyoya was originally and Kyoya moves around him to sit on the opposite side of the table in like fashion.

"I merely dropped by to return an umbrella that Haruhi left at school. I was also hoping to speak with you about a few things."

"So thoughtful of you, really, Kyoya-kun." Ranka moves the china into place for Kyoya, Haruhi and himself. "Haru-chan, would you pull out the special napkins, please?"

"Dad, it's just Kyoya-senpai," she says, pretending to be annoyed. She turns her head to the side more than necessary so her dad can't see the wink she casts across the table. Kyoya is a sphinx.

"Don't be silly. He's our guest. I did teach you manners, didn't I?"

She turns away with a hopefully realistic guff and opening the drawer of a side cabinet, removes three fine linen napkins, each embroidered with a flower at one corner. She places one at each setting.

Kyoya takes one in hand. "The needlework on these is quite exquisite," he comments and Haruhi can tell that he means it.

"Kotoko did them," Ranka says with some pride. "She said each flower meant something special."

''They do," Kyoya instructs. "If I'm not mistaken, daisies represent innocence, the hyacinth sincerity and the apple blossom denotes promise."

"How do you know that?" Haruhi asks using the honorific intentionally.

"Knowing such things is basic, isn't it?"

Ranka intervenes. "Of course it would be for a well-raised young man like yourself. Kotoko would be charmed to know you're aware of such things. She was always so busy, yet she always found time to make things special."

"She sounds like an amazing woman. Haruhi sometimes speaks of her, but I'd love to know more."

"Would you? Then you must visit us more often on your own, like this. It's always so confusing when all you boys are here. I don't know who to talk to first."

"I'd like that." Kyoya looks over to Haruhi whose lips lips hold an innocent smile, but whose eyes pin him.

In a mildly accusatory voice she says, "This is the 21st century isn't it? So why am I feeling like I'm in feudal Japan?"

Meanwhile, Ranka looks like the cat that got the cream. "Haru-chan," he sing-songs, "Would you get Daddy's other slippers? My feet are positively killing."

"Sure." She sets the teapot on a trivet on the table. "Help yourselves." She looks directly at Kyoya when she adds in an innocent tone of voice, "You're good at that, aren't you?"

She turns without waiting to see his expression and heads into her father's bedroom, rummaging through the bottom of his over-stuffed wardrobe to find a pair of plushy slippers in a tiger print. At the half-open door, she stops, slippers in hand, listening to snippets of her dad and Kyoya conversing.

"Just because we've been in contact for awhile, doesn't mean I'm partial to you," says Ranka.

"My intentions are honorable, I assure you," Kyoya replies.

"They better be or you'll regret ever having heard the name Fujioka Ryoji."

_It's positively surreal. My dad, the transvestite, is sitting in our parlor talking to the son of one of Japan's elite who, it just so happens, has maneuvered himself into my home to become a bit more than just a friend while Dad plays tough guy. Enter tiger print slippers - the perfect accessory for a wannabe matchmaking father._

Her laughter rises slowly, then overtakes her. She leans against the wall, a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

"Haruhi? Are you alright?" Ranka calls out. She gets herself under control lest both men think she's lost it completely. _Maybe I have. Or maybe I'm just happy._

She returns with a straight face. The two men watch her approach, Ranka's expression doting and Kyoya's shining with satisfaction.

"Here you go, Dad."

Kyoya looks at the slippers, then her. Haruhi shrugs and smiles. He shakes his head at her but his eyes gleam and the petite girl wonders, _Just what were you two talking about and why do I have the feeling it's about me?_

"Ranka," Kyoya says, keeping his eyes on Haruhi, "I'd like your permission to take your daughter out this evening."

Haruhi's eyes widen, but she says nothing.

"It is a school night," Ranka muses, a finger pressed to his lips.

"I'll have her home by eleven-thirty."

"Hmmm…"

"Excuse me," Haruhi looks to her father, then Kyoya. "Maybe someone should ask me what I think?"

A subtle challenge comes from Kyoya's amused eyes. "Interested?"

 _Confident, much?_ "Am I allowed to know our destination?"

"Ballet at the National Theater. They're performing Bugaku this evening and I'd very much like you to accompany me, with your father's permission, of course."

She can't pretend not to be excited. She's loved ballet ever since her first exposure during a middle school field trip. Haruhi looks to Ranka who sits quietly, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea, regarding her. He won't tell her what to do, but his lack of objection speaks volumes.

"When do I need to be ready?"

"I'll pick you up at six. Dinner first, then theater."

She tries to read his expression which is serene, an even smile on his lips. _No, you're definitely not Buddha, Ootori Kyoya, and I'm not completely naïve about this setup. Still, I did enjoy your company this afternoon, admittedly a lot._

"Fine," she says without expression. "I'll see you at six."

Ranka stands. "Ahh, the ballet. So romantic. Now, I really must excuse myself." He turns to Kyoya who has also risen. "A pleasure, as always. Please see Kyoya out, Haruhi." The two men bow to one another and Ranka enters his bedroom, snicking the door behind him.

The young couple walks the short distance to the door. Haruhi grabs and extends Kyoya's coat and scarf. As he folds them over his arm, she says in a quiet voice to keep Ranka from hearing, "I have to say you're definitely The Cool Type."

"A cultivated skill that sometimes proves useful."

"Tell me something," she says, then stops, shaking her head. "No, forget it."

"Ask me, Haruhi. Remember, it's what you do."

A mischievous smile takes hold of her. "I've seen you guys when you get a little flustered at club. Sometimes, you excuse yourselves for a bit and I do know why. I'm wondering how you got things under control today when my dad barged in."

"You don't really want to know, do you?"

"Absolutely, positively…yes."

He sighs and looks at her from over his glasses, a move she's beginning to find somewhat endearing, as if he's allowing her to see a hidden part of himself. "Well, to be perfectly honest, what usually works is thinking of my father dressed up in a huge Usa-chan costume."

Haruhi can't stop herself from laughing out loud. Kyoya presses his lips together but stays calm. "That would do it, I guess." She chuckles to herself a bit more. "You aren't offended that I'm laughing about this, are you?"

"Not at all. When I arrived today, you'd been crying and I still don't know why. But, at least now I've made you laugh."

"I never realized you had such a sense of humor." A final chortle bubbles up.

"A sense of irony, perhaps; but if you wish to consider it humor, I won't argue...if it pleases you."

"It does."

"Then I shall try to think of ironic and humorous things to tell you over dinner."

"You're on."

"Always," he says with a twinkle in his eye. _Since when do Kyoya's eyes twinkle?_

"And thank you again for returning the umbrella." She opens the door and he takes a step out the door before leaning back in to capture her chin.

"You're welcome. Perhaps, one day, we'll share it."

He leans in to steal a final kiss, but Haruhi gives him a gentle shove. "Only if you're worthy. I'll see you later," she says.

Kyoya steps outside, but stops to look back at her. She meets his eyes with a look that says, 'Got a problem with that?'

Tachibana appears, as if from nowhere, helping Kyoya with his outerwear before they head to the street.

She closes the door behind him and leans her back against it, remembering their heated visit with an audible sigh. She pulls herself away and walks over to the family shrine. She kneels before Kotoko's photograph. _Thanks for the advice today, Mom. I think I'll be okay._ In her mind she hears Kotoko's voice saying, "Anytime."

Ranka pokes his head out of his door. "All clear?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Saying hello to Mom?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Send my love."

"Yes, Dad."

"Could you please stop saying 'Yes, Dad'?"

"Ummm…Yes, Dad?"

Ranka comes out of his room just as Haruhi is rising. He grabs the girl and hugs her, loosely. "You're adorable. Now listen…" he begins, pulling back. His face grows serious. "About tonight."

 _Here we go._ "I got it covered. Don't worry." He holds Haruhi away from him by her arms, looking directly into her eyes.

"Really? I know Kyoya has been raised to be a gentleman, but boys will be boys. Don't let him get fresh with you."

Haruhi tips her head at him. "Is it okay to say 'Yes, Dad' now?

"Oh my. Yes, yes. I don't mean to be a nuisance, but your mother isn't around and I want to be sure you'll be okay."

"I know just what Mom would tell me."

"How's that?"

"Well, you've raised me right and I know she's always with me, too."

"Yes, she is," he says with some emotion, stepping away and placing a hand over his heart in a move that so reminds her of Tamaki, it's scary. "Right here." Ranka's eyes are shiny with tears.

"You aren't going to cry are you?"

"Well, you are heading out on your first date and that means you're growing up." He's biting his lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"It's just a date with a friend. I'll be home before midnight."

"Haruhi," he says, his lips no longer quivering, but set in a firm line. "There is no such thing as a date with a friend. Outings, yes. Dates, never."

"So..?" Her eyes squint just a little as she waits for the other shoe to drop.

"Is this an outing or a date?"

She has to think about that one. She doesn't know herself how to categorize what Kyoya and she are attempting to manage. _Not many people would, though, so we should get props for effort._

As she ponders, Ranka answers his own question. "It has to be date, otherwise he wouldn't have asked for my permission which, I must say, was impressive. Most boys these days never consider the girl's parents at all - selfish, ungrateful, horny beasts that they are."

"Dad, not every boy is the same."

"Oh yes, my darling, they are. Some may hide it better than others, but in the end, they're all beasts."

"Then you're going to have to trust me to take care of myself."

"Like you did in Okinawa? Haruhi, Kyoya told me about those thugs. Thank goodness the boys were there to help you."

"Actually, they weren't. Tamaki-senpai was." _And did Kyoya tell you about his "lesson?" I'm guessing no._

"Seriously, if you're going to start dating, it might be smart if you took some lessons in self-defense."

Haruhi groans. "So you _are_ going to be a nuisance."

 _"_ Of course not. You won't even know I'm around." Ranka heads to the table and begins clearing it, keeping his face from Haruhi's prying eyes.

"And you won't follow me, either, right?"

He stills in place. "Whatever made you say that?"

"I swear if I see you, I won't talk to you for a solid week."

Ranka is crestfallen. He turns to face his daughter. "Very well, Haruhi. But you know I'm here for you. I'll only be a phone call away if you need to leave early or a ride home for any reason."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Daddys who care are always ridiculous when it comes to their daughters."

"Thanks," she concedes, her tone softening with genuine regard.

"Tell you what. Why don't we look in your closet and see what you're going to wear? Oh, it's going to be wonderful. And maybe a little blush and lipstick and-"

"Uhhh...Dad?" she says, her previous confidence merging with doubt.

"Just a smidge. I know you're pretty just as you are, but it's a special occasion. You want to make a good impression, don't you?"

"I don't think you have to worry about that. I've known Kyoya-senpai for a year." _Mostly dressed as a boy, it's true._

"This is different, Haruhi. I knew your mother before we started dating, too - well, briefly. Going out in public takes things in a whole new direction."

"Really?"

"Oh my, yes. Somehow people find out and everything changes."

"Everything…" _How will the club react? How will our guests?_

"I can see it all now."

 _So can I and I won't be needing lipstick at all. Maybe a dinner jacket?_ "Dad, there's something you need to understand. A-And I think you should sit down."

Ranka spins in place, eyes wide with surprise, his voice filled with deliberate calm. "It's fine, Haru-chan. Daddy is here for you..."

"Dad."

"If Kyoya's responsible...I'll speak with him..."

"Dad?"

"I do need to know, though, because..." There he pauses, his composure going up in a curl of smoke over his head. "I'll kill him with my bare hands!" he growls, his voice a low roar. His fists are clenched by his sides and his face is suddenly on fire.

"Dad!" Haruhi shouts, realizing her verbal faux pas. Ranka is breathing hard, his body shaking with barely controlled rage. "Listen to me! Everything is fine. I'm okay. Kyoya's not responsible for anything. It's not what you think."

Ranka's Namahage face slowly resumes humanity. Haruhi sighs with relief.

Ranka drops onto a floor cushion, limp. "I'm sorry, Haru-chan. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions, but the way you said I should sit down..."

"I know and I'm sorry. Bad choice of words."

He presses a hand to his forehead, takes in a deep breath and releases it. "I'm sitting down now. What's going on?"

Haruhi seats herself across from him and meets his eyes. _The truth is always hard at first, but lies are harder later._ She covers his hand with her own. "I really like Kyoya and we might be more than friends."

"But he only just asked-"

"Let's leave it at that. The thing is that...for the time being...we're going to be dating as...two guys."

Ranka's brows crease heavily and his lips purse in hard thought. Haruhi settles in for a long conversation.

End - Chapter 12 - You'll Never Be Alone

* * *

You'll Never Be Alone \- Capital Kings [Ryoji/Ranka-centric]

CHORUS  
I'm the street lights that guide you home.  
I'll be the G.P.S when you've lost your phone.  
I'll be the song that's rockin' in your headphones.  
I'll show you the signs to let you know  
You'll never be alone. (2x)

Hey, let me start it off by sayin' this:  
You mean everything to me. Nothin' I wouldn't risk.  
Every single second and moment that passes by  
I'm thinkin' about ya and I really want you to know that  
There's something more out there.  
Somethin' that will hold you very tight when you're scared.  
'Cause I know when times get tough and it starts to feel rough,  
It can feel like everything's crashin' down on ya.

So when it seems like every road you're on has hit a dead end  
There is hope. Let me show…

CHORUS

Man, crazy how you got this far.  
I'd be sittin' just wonderin' where to start.  
Last week you were sayin' that somethin' just ain't right.  
Layin' in your bed stayin' up all night.

'Cause this life is harder than it seems,  
But one thing I've learned is never stop chasin' your dreams.  
And if it, if it ever gets too hectic for you,  
Stop for a second and remember one thing.

So when it seems like every road you're on has hit a dead end  
There is hope. Let me show…

CHORUS

Sometimes life is an ocean.  
We're just trying to flow.  
We get caught in slow motion from the undertow.  
Sometimes the path to choose is right in front of you.  
You just gotta let go.

CHORUS (2x)


	13. Somewhere In Between

_A day earlier..._

Saturday nights at the second Suoh estate are much like its Number One resident, which is to say, unpredictable. Dining with his father, catching up on schoolwork or just relaxing at home are among Tamaki's usual activities, though not his preference. He's happiest when his friends visit him and happier still when they stay over. Enthusiasm and generosity make him a pleasant host even when he's off duty.

It's been this way since the founding of the Host Club and Tamaki's "spell on the carriage" holds fast. Six teenage boys with money in their pockets and little to no adult supervision is a recipe for Trouble, but Tamaki's concern for his mother's welfare overshadows all - her well-being at stake should his grandmother catch wind of even a breath of impropriety. The other mitigating factor is Haruhi. She never joins them at the second Suoh mansion, but her invisible sway is strong.

"That's as it should be," Tamaki told her the first time she wisely refused his polite invitation to join their Saturday Soiree, as he called it. "You're Daddy's little girl and a young lady. Our carefree antics may not be suited to your tender nature."

"They can't be worse than what I witness every afternoon before and after club, can they?" she asked, certain that it just wasn't possible.

"I believe Tamaki is correct in insisting that you don't partake," Kyoya had added to his friend's statements. "What you see here at school is but a taste of what some hosts, gentlemen or otherwise, are like without censure." He nodded towards the Hitachiins who are undressing one another before donning their cosplay outfits of the day with a maximum of tickling and touching. Haruhi turned away before they went much further, just as she always did.

And so, she refrains from attending and they refrain from illegal activities that would disgrace Tamaki and get the rest of them promptly shuffled off to exclusive boarding schools run by religious orders to prevent any further dishonoring of family lineage. Still, they are adolescent boys and so…

"It's up-up-left-down and enter three times fast," Honey is yelling at Mori who is being soundly beaten to a digital pulp by the tactilely gifted Hikaru in the final stages of a complex martial-arts-tournament-conquest-choose-your-adventure game, one not even available to the general public yet but a freebie from a Suoh Industries subsidiary with a finger in the video game development pie. Field testing, Tamaki's father called it whenever he brought home a game being considered for mass production. This one is called "Crux Ultima."

"Shut up, Mitsukuni. I'm trying to focus," Mori admonishes without looking at his classmate who leans over the back of the leather gaming chair Mori occupies. Hikaru is half standing, half kneeling on its match near by. Both gamers wield a wireless controller that allows them complete freedom to move about, which Hikaru is prone to do, jumping out of his seat and dancing about wildly during his most violent attacks.

"You'll never beat Hika," Kaoru calls from the other side of the room with no small amount of pride. "He's the game-meister."

"He's just lucky this is only a game," Mori growls in frustration. "Dammit." Hikaru laughs an evil laugh as he body slams Mori's character to the ground several times in a row.

"Yeah, he knows, but he's still winning." Kaoru digs at his senpai with a wry smile.

Empty bags of snacks and bottles of water and mandarin soda litter the space between the gamesters at one end of the room and the rest of the group in the opposite corner. Kyoya reclines on the nubby-textured L-shaped sectional sofa, head supported by fuzzy toss pillow, knees bent upwards, engrossed in a saucy manga. His expression is one of disbelief and intense interest. This is definitely not school-required reading material.

Tamaki is sitting cross-legged on the floor near Kyoya's feet, his back pressed against the sofa. He's also reading and it's not a manga, but a magazine for men only. His eyes are wide and his blush is deep scarlet.

Kaoru, who's been sitting on the ottoman abutting the opposite end of the long divan, stands then stoops to grab a rag from the stack on the floor. He flops down beside the blond, closer to Kyoya. He flips through a few pages, pausing every now and again to ogle a scantily dressed model. No blush here. Just adolescent hormones in high gear. "Jeez, senpai. Where'd you get these?"

"I do have two older brothers," comes Kyoya's reply without his eyes ever leaving the page he's perusing.

"Isn't Yuuichi married?"

"Yes."

"So what does he need these for?"

Kyoya's head pops out from the side of the magazine to regard the younger Hitachiin. "You have clearly never met my sister-in-law."

"I have," Tamaki volunteers. "She's very pretty, for an older woman."

"She's thirty-one, Tamaki. That's not exactly old," Kyoya reminds.

"So what's the problem?" Hikaru inquires from across the room, now curious.

"The problem, from what I gather from conversations I've overheard between my elder brothers is that Azami is beautiful, intelligent and frigid."

"Frigid. Re-a-lly?" Kaoru says, trying to sound mature.

"Stop pretending you know what that means, Kaoru," Hikaru says.

"So what if I don't? You don't either," Kaoru retorts.

Mori says, "What it means is that Yuuichi spends a lot of time reading magazines…by himself." Kyoya chuckles at the elder Host's wit.

"Good one, Takashi," Honey commends, slapping the palm that rises to meet his over Mori's head.

"Huh?" Kaoru is bemused.

Kyoya rolls up the magazine he's reading, leans forward and swats Kaoru on the head. "You dumbass. Don't you know anything?"

"About?"

"Sex."

"I know enough," the first year defends, turning his head to look at his attacker.

"A little information is sometimes a dangerous thing," Kyoya quotes, "And that's especially true in your case."

"I know more than a little, senpai."

"About pleasing yourself, I've no doubt; but no clue, to be sure, as to how to please a woman."

"Oh, and I suppose you're a pro?"

"I know enough to get the job done."

"Do you?"

"At least more than you. You've never even had a girlfriend. Why is that Kaoru?"

The redhead gives Kyoya a stony stare which the brunet ignores, dropping the rolled up magazine to the floor before reaching for another, this one a popular action manga. Throughout the exchange, Tamaki has remained still, his blush growing deeper with memory.

Honey saunters over to where they are and sits down on the over-sized ottoman. "Kaoru-chan is just waiting for the right girl to come along. Right?" He smiles benevolently at the younger boy, diffusing the situation without effort.

"Well, sort of," comes the terse reply as he glances over at Hikaru who's still engrossed in his game.

"That's okay," Honey adds. "There's no rush, y'know. Just take your time and learn as you go."

"So, just how much do _you_ know, Honey-senpai?" Tamaki pipes up for the first time in the conversation, eyes lifting to meet his clubmate's.

"I did have a girlfriend last year, if you recall, but she didn't like me being a Host. I told her it made me happy, but she didn't care. So we broke up."

"She was evil, Mitsukuni," Mori says without looking over and without inflection.

"Was not," Honey argues.

"Yes, she was. You deserve better."

Honey sighs. "I wish Takashi wasn't so over-protective. He makes it difficult for me to meet girls, sometimes."

"Does he?" Tamaki asks, surprised to hear the pint-sized boy make several unexpected admissions in succession.

"I mean, I like being the loli-boy at club, but that doesn't mean I intend to play that role forever." Tamaki considers the third year's words. _So what benefit is there to pretending? Why do it at all?_

"Hey Boss, is it too late to order take out?" Hikaru asks, his eyes never leaving the game screen.

"Yeah," Honey continues, "But he means well. And he's probably right, too."

"I am right. You know I am." Mori says before throwing the game controller down. "Argh. I surrender!" he shouts.

Hikaru whoops. "Undefeated and still the video game champion of the Host Club!"

Tamaki consults his smartphone. "One a.m. I think it might be too late for the closest places, but there's pizza in the freezer."

Honey inquires, "Is there cake, too?"

"Of course," Tamaki replies. "Three kinds."

"Yay! Cake!" Honey cheers.

"Piz-za! Piz-za!" the Hitachiins chant as they all tramp down the stairs into an enormous and immaculate kitchen while turning on every light and making enough noise to wake the dead.

Kaoru turns on the convection oven, sets the temperature and gets the pizzas heating. Mori refills the party-sized ice bucket and pushes a half-dozen bottles of soda into its cold embrace. Kyoya knows Tamaki's house almost as well as his own and takes the liberty of pulling out tableware and utensils. Manners cost nothing, after all, especially when someone else cleans up. Tamaki grabs a multi-tiered stack of bakery boxes from the counter and sets them on the prep island in front of where Honey stands.

"They're all yours," he informs the wide-eyed host.

"Yum!" comes Honey's delighted exclamation.

"Leave some for everyone else," Mori commands quietly. Honey dislodges the smallest box from the stack and sets it near the tallest host. A sharp glance from his grade mate garners a pout, but swift retrieval of the smallest box, replacing it with the largest. "That's better." The short boy picks up the rest of the white-corded boxes and carries them off to Tamaki's bedroom suite, singing as he goes.

As they wait for the pizza to heat through, their joking and horseplay reaches fever-pitch. It's a raucous, but happy sound that goes suddenly silent when Shima enters the room. They all greet her politely.

"Good evening, young Masters," she responds with a bow. "May I remind you that some of the staff are already asleep with a very early awakening. If you could please show respect for their slumber, I'm sure they would appreciate it."

Apologies are made with promises to keep things to a low roar. She leaves their company and returns to the staff quarters. "Boys will be boys," Shima tells the bleary-eyed staff before turning her hearing aid down and retiring for the night. Out of sight, she smiles, happy that her pupil has friends he can count on.

Ninety minutes later, Tamaki stands at the front door bidding Honey and Mori good night as they take their leave, piling into the Hitachiin limo with the twins. University looms near for Haninozuka and Morinozuka and everyone knows that these carefree evenings together are limited. They'll be far too busy studying and involved in college life soon enough, even if they do come to Host Club in the afternoons. It will happen to each of them, in time.

Tamaki returns to his bedroom. It's not as grand in size as Kyoya's - no second level loft or floor-to-ceiling windows, but it's a sizeable suite nonetheless. Kyoya is in pajamas, stretched out fully on the sofa again, on his side with a pillow snatched from Tamaki's bed under his head and a light-weight comforter covering him from the waist down. His eyes are closed. Tamaki heads towards his friend and sits down on the ottoman, forearms leaning on his thighs, observing his friend as he drowses.

 _He always looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Younger. Like he was in middle school._ The urge to brush the stray locks of hair that tumble across Kyoya's forehead is strong. The urge to kiss him even stronger. Kyoya wouldn't know if he's careful about it. Tamaki shrugs off the thoughts. _I mustn't. But I want to. I want…him._

He can't help but remember what happened the night before. Can't help but remember how Kyoya's embrace felt, his lips on his own, his hands on Kyoya and the passion they'd shared. It was mutual. He didn't imagine it. He didn't. But neither did he imagine Kyoya's insistence that their tryst was a one-time only event. It wasn't a one-night stand but, in essence, it was very much the same thing. He'd accepted his friend's boundaries thinking he could live with it. Now he's not so sure.

 _Is this the way things will be for the rest of my life? How can I do this alone? Who can I talk to about how I feel? Who won't judge me?_ He'd normally talk to Kyoya but how can he when Kyoya is part of the problem? As potential heirs to prominent families, they're both expected to marry one day and foster future generations. _What about family? Family is everything._ Tamaki can't even imagine not having children one day. But now? He sighs a deep, mournful sigh as the reality of his situation begins to settle in. He's not upset that he's gay. He accepts that. But to suffer the limitations that Japanese society will place on him pains him for the future. And to be near Kyoya and not be with Kyoya pains him now.

The brunet hadn't seemed upset when they parted last night, but the Shadow King always plays things close to the vest. One could never quite tell what he was thinking or feeling. Tamaki, on the other hand, had felt exhilarated. Liberated. Being with Kyoya had meant everything to him. And whether his best friend went with it because he wanted Tamaki in the same way or just wanted Tamaki to be happy made no difference _._

 _To be trusted is a greater gift than to be loved. I can't lose that trust. I won't. But I can't lose him, either, not to anyone. Not even to Haruhi._ He feels traitorous. He stands and walks slowly towards the sofa. He bends over and reaches out a hand. It alights on Kyoya's shoulder and the dark-haired boy is startled awake.

Seeing Tamaki hovering over him, Kyoya sits up and shifts backwards, away from Tamaki's touch. "What is it?" he challenges softly. Tamaki hears the anxious undertone in his question and cringes inside. _He doesn't trust me anymore._

"It's nothing, Kyo. Go back to sleep." He turns and heads to his bed. He sloughs off his clothes and into pajamas. Pulling the duvet over himself, he stares at the ceiling just as he did weeks ago, when his feelings towards his best friend had altered - not quite from friendship to love. It wasn't that easy. His feelings lie somewhere in between those two poles and he doesn't know what to do with them. It will be a long night.

"Tamaki?" Kyoya's voice floats to him through the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I barked at you. And yeah, I made a dog joke."

Tamaki smiles just a little. "S'ok, Kyo. I get it. You don't have to worry about me."

"Tamaki-"

"Good night, Kyoya." The statement is flat, but firm.

A pause and then, "Good night, Tamaki."

Silence.

**_oOoOo_ **

Tamaki rises early Sunday morning, leaving Kyoya still asleep. Kyoya won't rise until at least ten, much too late for the blond. He heads into the kitchen, bypassing the well-laden breakfast buffet in the dining hall. Instead, he packs a rucksack and calls for Antoinette. Bundling against the gelid morning, the two head out to walk the grounds of the second estate. Tamaki needs to think.

As the day warms, the two companions continue to roam the woods and snow-dappled fields left natural by order of Suoh Yuzuru who insists on keeping a visual remnant of his memory of France nearby. Tamaki loves the wildness of the landscape. At midday, he lunches on the bread and cheese he's brought with him. Soon after, he wonders why Kyoya hasn't called yet. He usually does to discuss club business before the school week begins. Tamaki finally rings up his Vice-President. The brunet answers but seems distracted, brushing Tamaki off. The blond is now genuinely worried. He needs to talk to somebody. _But who?_

_Haruhi. She's so level-headed and calm about everything. I can't imagine her criticizing me for something as wonderful as loving another person, even if Kyo doesn't love me back that way. Damn! Did I just say that? Haruhi likes Kyoya, but I love Kyoya. And Kyoya may have feelings for Haruhi but whether or not they'll go anywhere is uncertain. But Kyoya cares about me, too. How can I stand between them? But Kyo has been my friend for years…from the beginning. And we... We..._

And so it goes 'round and 'round in his mind.

Tamaki and Antoinette continue meandering through the wooded area where weak sunlight coats the hard winter ground in splotches of pale yellow. Every now and again, he tosses a hard rubber ball that the retriever bounds after with delight, catching it between her teeth but holding it delicately until she can deposit it at the feet of her master. When he doesn't immediately pick up the toy, she picks it up in her mouth and drops it again, hoping to entice her playmate into action. When he continues to ignore her, she barks in a series of short bursts.

He sits down on a felled tree in the small clearing they occupy and hugs the golden-haired dog tightly. She tolerates it for as long as he needs. He releases her and she trots off to inspect whatever dogs inspect when outdoors. He spends some time jotting his thoughts down in his journal, in French, but he needs to hear the words aloud.

He whistles a three-note cadence and the retriever returns to him. "Assis-toi," he commands and she sits, facing him directly. "Trés bien," Tamaki praises and the dog's tail wags expectantly. Tamaki feeds her the last of his lunch and stows his writing materials. He fondles the soft ears and ruffles the fur just behind them.

"Antoinette," he begins, "I have a problem and I need to talk to somebody about it. They say that a dog is a man's best friend and my current best friend is the problem, so you'll just have to stand in today, okay?" The dog leans in and licks Tamaki's nose, raising his spirits.

"Thanks," he says. "I needed that. I'll have to explain a little bit 'cause you don't know the whole story. See, I came to Japan two years ago to live with my father. He's the guy who pays the rent around here so he's pretty much in charge. He used to tell me all these great stories about Japan and I couldn't wait to get here. Mom lives in France and I have to behave myself so she can get medical care. I promised myself that I'd make the best of things and I have."

Antoinette's tail wags, urging him to continue.

"It's just that everything was so different…the currency, the customs, the way people address one another - everything was new and because I wasn't a little kid, a lot of people were less than understanding when I didn't completely understand so I had to pretend everything was fine even if it wasn't. It's made me popular - well, that and my ingratiating good looks - but I want people to notice me for who I really am, not just what I look like."

The retriever's head cocks to one side.

"I'm still not fluent in Japanese even though I study every day with Shima-san. Kanji still baffles me. I'm a much better writer in French and I know that the only reason Kyoya is ahead of me academically is because his writing skills in Japanese are better, even though my ideas beat his by a mile. We Suohs have goals and standards too, right?"

Antoinette barks at the intonation of a question.

"But really, it was Kyoya who made life bearable back then. He was nice to me and really smart. I liked that but it turns out, he was just like Japan - very different from what I first thought. Different from what most people think. See, Kyoya is really two people.

There's the guy people see on the outside - the cool host who keeps everyone at a distance and tries to make you believe he only cares about wealth and prestige and all that sort of stuff. And he does, but that's not all. There's also the guy on the inside - the one who tries to solve every problem before it becomes a problem for his friends, the one who uses his smarts to help others while saying it doesn't matter, the one who lets me take the spotlight while standing back.

And regardless of which Kyoya I'm dealing with, he's been there for me, been honest with me. He's my best friend and I love him. I mean I think I _love_ him, Antoinette. I'm just not sure how he really feels about me."

Tamaki's chin drops into his chest. Antoinette stands and snuffles her nose against Tamaki's cheek. He lifts his head and she backs up a bit, tail wagging again.

"So what do I do?"

The canine barks several times in an uneven cadence and Tamaki is sure that in her wise canine wisdom, she's said, "Be honest and be yourself."

_Alright then._

He pulls out his smartphone.

End - Chapter 13 - Somewhere in Between

* * *

Somewhere in Between \- Lifehouse [Tamaki-centric]

I can't be losing sleep over this.  
No I can't. And now I cannot stop pacing.  
Give me a few hours, I'll have this all sorted out  
If my mind would just stop racing.

'Cause I cannot stand still.  
I can't be this unsturdy.  
This cannot be happening.

This is over my head but underneath my feet.  
'Cause by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat  
And everything will be back to the way that it was.  
I wish that it was just that easy.

'Cause I'm waiting for tonight.  
Then waiting for tomorrow.  
And I'm somewhere in between  
What is real or just a dream. (3x)

Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in?  
Don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again.  
I don't want to run away from this.  
I know that I just don't need this.

'Cause I cannot stand still.  
I can't be this unsturdy.  
This cannot be happening.

'Cause I'm waiting for tonight.  
Then waiting for tomorrow.  
And I'm somewhere in between  
What is real or just a dream. (3x)


	14. Everybody Talks

The unseasonal mildness of the day after three days of snow and several more spent clearing it away is welcomed by grateful Tokyo city-dwellers. It seems as if half the metropolis is intent on breathing fresh air with sidewalks more crowded than usual and streets packed to capacity. Outside Haruhi's apartment building, the walkways are clean though the side street on which she resides is still thick with slush.

Also outside Haruhi's apartment building is Team Kyoya, who waits for their young master. The three men in black are always on call whenever Kyoya-sama leaves the Ootori estate. Their days are long and their responsibility weighty. As Kyoya's Family Guard, they never question their role, their duty or the necessity to put their lives on the line for the third son of the Ootori clan.

Hotta leans against the black Phantom enjoying the day as much as anyone. At 35 years old, he's been given the job of Kyoya-sama's chauffeur. It is a great honor. Aijima, the eldest of the three men at 45 years old, stands further down the road, arms crossed, watching the general vicinity. Tachibana, 39 years of age and longest in the employ of the Ootori family has, of course, been closest to where their young master is located. He is serious-minded, discreet in the extreme and very patient as he waits for Kyoya to emerge from the apartment he's visiting.

Hotta notices Aijima heading his way and shortly thereafter he sees Kyoya descending the staircase at the far end of the building. Hotta is a keen observer of his charge and something's off. The usually stern-faced, buttoned-up young Ootori is sauntering, hands in pockets, with his coat open, face lifted to the sky. As he nears, the bodyguard hears off-key humming but knows better than to notice. Humming, like whistling, is déclassé but it's not for him to correct.

"New haircut, Hotta-san?" Kyoya queries as Hotta steps in ahead of the brunet to open the car door for him.

"You know that I am bald, Kyoya-sama."

"But you look especially sharp today," the brunet cheerfully compliments.

"I am pleased that you consider my appearance to be acceptable."

He looks at Aijima. "You as well, Aijima-san."

"Thank you, Ootori-sama."

"Very good. Take me home, please."

"As you wish."

Kyoya gathers his topcoat around himself and slides into the car. _I have a date with Haruhi._ The smile that lights his face is genuine.

Hotta pushes the door closed and he and Aijima look at one another in confusion at their young master's uncharacteristic attitude. Aijima gets in the passenger seat curbside as Hotta walks around the front of the car to get behind the wheel, street-side. Tachibana appears on his right, as if from nowhere, his slim frame angled to peer through both his dark glasses and the tinted window, brow furrowed, mouth set in a thin line.

_Don't stare, my friend. It's rude. And no, I'm not drugged or otherwise unnaturally affected. I'm just...thinking about a girl._

The Ootori bodyguard, whose hair turned silver while still in his twenties, gets into the car beside him and they pull out into the street. Kyoya peers through the window to catch a last glimpse of Haruhi's door as they roll past. _Already I miss you._

The drive home will be at least thirty minutes with Sunday traffic. He sinks into the seat and closes his eyes. The afternoon had turned out better than he'd hoped. He'd only gone to Haruhi's to return the umbrella. Right? _Accurate, though untrue._ He could have returned it at school but he needed a reason, any reason, to see her. It was a compulsion much like the way he feels when he spies a promising stock option before the major players vie for control. He has to have it.

...I'm not a transaction, Kyoya. I'm a person...

_Yes, Haruhi, you are indeed flesh and blood and warm to the touch. Wonderfully so._

He recalls the way she looked when she opened the door. _Delightfully unpretentious, but it was clear she'd been crying. What about?_ He still doesn't know. A strange ache presses his chest and he takes in a breath through his nose. He holds it for a three-count and slowly releases it through pursed lips, calming his mind with his usual mantra. A disciplined mind is a powerful mind and Kyoya has practiced focused meditation since youth. The ache subsides but his thoughts veer again, this time into the body memory of her in his arms.

Even now, the heat she triggers in absentia arouses. _It makes no sense to want her so desperately, but I do_. Her greenness is provocative, her reactions genuine and he loves the idea that he's the one evoking them in her for the first time. She's not easily swayed, either. Her business-like approach to their dating appeals to his logical side while her feminine attributes appeal to something altogether different.

_It means she's prudent in her decisions. Laudable. And she'll only permit what she actually wants which makes taking liberties a calculated challenge. I can deal with that. I welcome it. Nothing keeps Haruhi's interest but her true feelings in any given matter so I'll know where I stand; always a sound position when faced with unknown variables and certainly better than the hell I've been living._

Two weeks. That's how long it had taken Kyoya to deliberately approach Haruhi after their heated exchange after club hours. Two weeks of justifying pursuit of a girl he thought his best friend wanted. Two weeks of covert planning with Fujioka-san to impress the girl who has caught his attention with sudden ferocity. Two weeks of pushing the feelings she made him feel aside, her background a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, only to have them return every time he saw her. He can't deny them any longer. He doesn't.

_If Tamaki has taught me anything, it's that my life is mine. Haruhi says so, as well. Similar wisdom from two very different people must have a legitimate basis. Perhaps, with Haruhi by my side, I can live that life fully._

But what of Tamaki? The blond's emotions are clear and Kyoya realizes that they've probably been in place for some time. Maybe since the beginning. Even so, Friday night was a mistake. _Chalk it up to adolescence, alcohol and hormones. Tamaki has to understand that there will be no further "indiscretions" between us. Of course, Tamaki being Tamaki might not see that so clearly. How could I have been so stupid? How? It was Tamaki, moron. He knows you like a book and read you exactly right._

Kyoya's good mood is marred by the intrusion of recalled events of the last few days. He'd gone to the second Suoh mansion the previous evening secure in his mind about where Tamaki and he stood with one another. He wanted his best friend to know that he trusted him and he did, even after he awoke to find the blond standing over him. _Tamaki might be emotional, but he's not stupid._

So why then did he toss and turn all night knowing that the blond who slept nearby would not refuse him a warm bed and body if he but asked? _I want Haruhi, not Tamaki._ But he knows that similar intimacy with Haruhi might be weeks, months, maybe even years from being what he wants it to be _if she's very conservative_. Meanwhile, Tamaki is ready, willing and able. _I want him as my friend._ But the word 'lover' hovers dangerously near as do the feelings the blond evoked within him.

He imagines Haruhi doing what Tamaki had done, drawing in breath as blood pools in his groin, tightening in anticipation. The image is too hot to even contemplate right now and he stifles the thought with a small groan. But he can't entirely. The conjured images play havoc with him. He knows how Haruhi's lips feel against his and how Tamaki's mouth felt on other parts of his body. He'd have to satisfy some of his stronger urges before the evening began or he'd be at their mercy.

"No lineage, no connections, nothing to offer. She's just an ordinary girl, Tamaki." That's what he'd told Tamaki a few weeks after Haruhi had joined Host Club. They were discussing her background and Tamaki suggested that his "daughter" might one day marry a wealthy son of Ouran, hypothetically of course, to which Kyoya had said, "That's highly unlikely as she has _…_ " _No lineage? True. No connections? Procurable. Nothing to offer? How could I anticipate how wrong I'd be? Ordinary? Perhaps not nonpareil, but certainly exceptional. And totally desirable._

Thoughts of Tamaki are negated as he focuses on the hour or so spent with the petite brunette. He knows what he wants from her. It's everything: every thought, every feeling, every fantasy. He wants to know every square inch of her body and taste her intimately, make her quiver because of his touch. And he wants her hands on him doing things she only does for him, her mouth making him swear to the heavens and curl his toes.

_What is it about you that so captures me? It's not simply physical attraction as you allege, though I have always noticed your subtle looks. But it was more than that - your trust in Okinawa, your insight at Bonmal and your courage in standing up to my father at Ouran. I've been tough with you for your own good, even dismissive, but you've seen through every pose without effort. Perhaps, with you, I can just be myself. Only the idiot did that before you, but he's still an idiot and you...you are Haruhi._

He wants to indulge her, take her places she's never been, introduce her to what he takes for granted knowing that her common sense will prohibit her ever becoming spoiled. He's impatient for their date to begin. What might she wear? _What might she wear? This is Haruhi. She doesn't have brothers and Ranka's clothes are out of the question._ He doesn't want to embarrass her but she might be more embarrassed if she doesn't dress appropriately.

Tachibana's and Hotta's loyalty and silence are assured and Kyoya's smartphone is off speaker-mode. He pulls out the device and taps on the entry for Hitachiin Kaoru. Two voices answer.

"I really wish you'd stop answering individual calls as a unit," Kyoya begins. "When I want to speak to Hikaru, I will call Hikaru. Right now, I wish to speak to Kaoru."

"No can do," Hikaru says. "I'll find out everything, anyway, so save my brother the trouble of trying to remember your conversation."

Kaoru's voice is heard. "What do you want, senpai?"

 _I want your brother off the line but since that's not going to happen..._ "I need something fashionable from your mother's Young Men's Collection sent to Haruhi's home by 4 p.m. today. Bill it to the Ootori account."

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Kaoru says, curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, why?" Hikaru demands. "You're not going someplace with her, are you?"

"Please explain how any of that's your business, Hikaru."

"Take it easy, Hika. S'ok," Kaoru soothes.

"Like hell it is. I've been trying to work up my courage since last year to ask Haruhi out again and now Mr. Cool blows up my spot."

_That isn't exactly hard to do when you take forever to make a move._

"Are you really taking Haruhi out, senpai?" Kaoru asks, sounding somewhat impressed.

Kyoya pushes at his glasses. "If I tell you, will you deliver the outfit?"

"Yes," says Kaoru.  
"No," says Hikaru.

 _Damn Hitachiins._ Kyoya keeps his temper as losing it will gain him nothing. The hush between the usually enmeshed twins extends into an uncomfortable silence.

Kaoru's voice is the first to break the rift. "Hikaru, it can't be a date if Haruhi is wearing menswear."

"Then why is Kyoya-senpai paying for it? Shouldn't he be adding it to her debt?"

"That is a good question." Silence resume for several seconds that feel like minutes.

"Listen, senpai, your silence is just proof that we're right," says Hikaru.

"Is that your judicious assessment?" Kyoya responds.

"Wait," Kaoru adds. "Are you aiming to be her boyfriend or just a boyfriend buddy?"

"A what?" Kyoya is taken off-guard.

Hikaru chimes in, "Her boyfriend buddy - a guy who's more than a friend but less than a boyfriend."

"I confess I'm not familiar with such terminology though I'm not surprised that you are."

"Want to know what it means?" Hikaru asks.

"Don't Hika," Kaoru warns.

Without pause, Hikaru says, "It means you'll get to wine and dine Haruhi but don't expect her knees to unlock for you any time soon, if ever. She's got more sense than that."

The controlled intensity of Kyoya's voice buzzes the line. "Kaoru, may I suggest that you inform your older-but-less-wise sibling that should he reference Haruhi in any way with anything less than the utmost respect, I will personally see to it that his face no longer, in any way, resembles yours. Have I made myself clear?"

"No worries," Kaoru says. "I'll take care of it. And I'll have something sent to Haruhi's place."

"Aww, piss up a rope, senpai," Hikaru hisses.

"Thank you, Kaoru. Ever the sensible Hitachiin. It doesn't have to be formal, just appropriate for an evening at the National Theater."

"See Hika? It can't be a date 'cause Haruhi is going as a guy. It's just an outing. Hey senpai, is the Boss going, too?"

"And why would Tamaki be involved?"

"Ummm - okay, I guess not. You're not a couple or anything."

Kyoya stills completely for a moment, then says,"We are not. Tamaki is a friend just as Haruhi is a friend. Any more questions?"

"Yeah," Hikaru says. "When's the birthday bash?"

"Next Sunday afternoon. Ranka is reserving his club."

"The tranny bar?" both twins ask with a hint of incredulity in their voices.

"The okama venue, yes. It will not be so at that time, of course, and the décor will be made considerably more elegant for the event. Which reminds me - might your grandmother be persuaded to create several arrangements for the room? She will, of course, be remunerated for her artistry."

Kaoru tells him, "She's in Tibet right now, but she's due back this week. We'll ask her and let you know."

"The sooner the better, please." Kyoya notes the time stamp on his phone. "Thank you, Kaoru...Hikaru. Your cooperation today is most appreciated. My tolerance level for your antics has increased slightly."

"Are we supposed to say thank you for that?" Hikaru inquires snidely.

"Only if it matters to you since it makes no difference to me," rejoins Kyoya.

"Snarky, senpai," Hikaru jibes. "I'm done."

"Ummm, Kyoya?" Kaoru quietly asks.

"Is your brother off the line?"

"Yeah. He's talking to someone else. So…senpai…"

"What is it now?" Kyoya replies with an air of monotony.

"We will get a full report, won't we?"

"Meaning what exactly?" he repeats in exactly the same cadence and tone as before.

"Look, I know this is a date however you want to disguise it. I'm cool with that but I don't want to upset Hikaru."

"That seems fairly easy to do, but I trust you'll manage your elder brother's temper. It would benefit _you_ to do so."

"I know that. But, now that _you_ know that  I know what's going down...well?"

 _Of course it would come to this._ "Encouraging gossip is not the act of a gentleman or have you forgotten that?"

"Neither is swearing, but you do that, don't you senpai?"

Kyoya considers a sharp comeback, but stops when he sees Tamaki's ID appear under Call Waiting. He mutters an ungentlemanly obscenity. "Can you hold, Kaoru? I have another call."

"It's the Boss," Kaoru informs.

"Hold," Kyoya states with deadly calm. His aggravation peaks as he puts Kaoru on Hold and opens a new line. "Tamaki, may I call you back, please?"

"No, Kyoya, you can not call me back because we need to talk right _now_." The blond sounds as agitated as Kyoya is feeling.

"Tamaki-"

"I'm calling an emergency meeting of the Host Club," he announces and the brunet is certain that regardless of the fact that no one can see him, Tamaki is standing with his arm outstretched, finger pointed to invisible hosts.

Arguing will be useless, so he attempts evasion, "Tamaki, I can't do this now."

"Boss, it's Kaoru. I'm on con-call now," the ginger interrupts.

"This is absurd," Kyoya insists.

"No, it's not. It's great!" Hikaru says with glee. Kyoya groans.

Tamaki cuts in. "Hikaru - Get Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai on the line."

"Already here, Tama-chan," announces Honey.

"You're lucky I was still home," Mori adds. "What's going on?"

Kyoya's hand presses to his forehead as his head drops forward.

Tamaki asks, "Does your con-call app allow more than six, Hikaru?"

"Yeah," Hikaru says trying to sound innocent. "Haruhi should be here, too."

"NO." Kyoya's head lifts at once, his voice overriding the chatter. They all fall silent. "This conversation is not including Haruhi and is not happening. Period. End of story. I'm hanging up."

"Kyoya." It's Tamaki, sounding rather firm. Kyoya's thumb hovers over End Call. "We need to talk. And I want the privacy divider up."

"Uh-oh," Kaoru says.  
"It's gonna be joo-cy," Hikaru says.

"Tamaki," says Kyoya with a modicum of calm, a twinge over his left eyebrow making itself known. It will blossom into a migraine if he doesn't take his headache meds soon. "This is neither the time nor place to discuss anything with you, let alone with the entire contingent of the Host Club." He hopes the blond will drop this idiocy.

"But Haru-chan isn't here," laments Honey.

Mori adds, "She is a host and should be present if this is a Host Club meeting."

Tamaki takes on a benevolent tone. "Thank you, Mori-senpai, for being a voice of reason amidst this crisis."

"What crisis?" Honey inquires sounding a further note of concern.

"So, Kyoya," Mori adds without missing a beat, "You're taking Haruhi on a date?"

"Called it!" shouts Kaoru.  
"I hate you, senpai," Hikaru gruffs.  
"Didn't think you had it in you," adds Mori, approving.  
"That's awesome," Honey compliments.

Kyoya's patience is gone. "How is this anybody's business but mine!?" he shouts leaning forward, then slumping back into the seat as the twinge becomes a solid thudding.

"Why didn't you say something last night?" Kaoru asks.

"Don't think it's going to lead to anything, senpai," Hikaru adds.

"I think it's great that Haru-chan said yes," Honey points out.

"So, when did all this begin?" Mori wants to know.

It's clear that their curiosity and excitement overrides their fear of ruffling the Shadow King's feathers. Only one voice remains unexpressed and it's the only one in which Kyoya is interested. So he asks, "And you, Tamaki? Am I to take it from your agitated state that you're less than thrilled with the idea?"

He expects, much as they all do, an emotional outburst. When cold silence is the only response he gets, Kyoya admonishes, "If you're sulking, understand that it doesn't work nearly so well over the phone as it does in person. If you're fuming, take a deep breath so you don't explode. And if you're thinking that this so-called meeting will have any bearing on who I escort, when, where or why, know that it doesn't."

"Then it's true," Tamaki says with a tone of snubbed disappointment.

"I didn't think you'd have a problem with it considering our earlier conversation."

"Conversation isn't the only thing I'm considering, Kyo."

 _Moron!_ Kyoya's blood boils at the thought that Tamaki might reveal more than is wise. "Tamaki," he warns with menace in his voice. "Let's talk about this at another time, alright?"

The tension on the line is palpable and not a single host interferes in the delicate communication between the club's founders, best friends and now-seeming rivals. The seconds slip by and finally Tamaki says in an overly dramatic voice that evokes an image of a stricken prince, "I'm sorry to have bothered everyone. You all have private lives and I have no right to interfere with them. Adieu until tomorrow."

"Tamaki," Kyoya says."Tamaki?" he queries, but he's gone. "Damn _idiot_!" he blares into the phone.

"Well, that was theatrical," Hikaru opines.

"Ummm, we've got to go, too, senpai," Kaoru says nervously. "See you tomorrow. And remember what you promised, okay?" They disconnect.

A few moments of silence slip by before Honey says, "It'll be okay, Kyo-chan. If Haru-chan wants to, that's all that matters."

Mori says, "Give Tamaki time. But if you need to talk-"

"We're here for you," Honey finishes.

"I'll have it sorted out by tomorrow's Host Club session," Kyoya responds, trying to sound unconcerned as he pushes at his glasses. "And if not- let's just try to keep things cool, shall we?"

"Sure," Mori promises.

"You can count on us," Honey seconds.

"Thank you, gentlemen."

They disconnect and the hand holding the phone collapses into Kyoya's lap. "Shiite," he swears under his breath as he stares out the window, the city limits now left behind. _How did things get out of hand so quickly?_ He gives the matter a few more seconds of focused thought, then encapsulates it in his mind, tucking it away for later consideration. He closes his eyes and, with two fingers, rubs at the spot on his brow that hurts most.

"Are you in pain, young Master?" Tachibana's austere persona voices itself beside him.

The man's nearly invisible presence returns Kyoya to his surroundings. "Just a bit of a headache is all."

"Do you require medication?"

"Yes, please."

The man reaches into an inner jacket pocket and pulls out a small zippered pouch. He extracts a single tablet, placing it into the waiting hand of the young man next to him. Taking a water bottle from the cooler, Tachibana uncaps it and hands it similarly to Kyoya. "Please remember that this is a different prescription than before. Its full effects on you are as yet unknown."

"I realize that but," Kyoya says turning his face to look at Tachibana, "I have plans this evening that I will not cancel."

"An outing?"

"Yes," he says. Then, "No. It's a...date...with Fujioka Haruhi."

Tachibana's face remains impassive. "Your classmate?"

"And special friend," Kyoya adds, deciding that 'boyfriend-buddy' lacks class while 'special friend' allows for more than Hikaru described without a formal commitment. It's accurate, for now. He waits for the reaction.

"I will do my utmost to ensure that you and Fujioka-san are untroubled for the evening. You may count on me, young master."

Kyoya continues to watch the face of the dedicated employee until the man lifts a hand to shift his dark glasses down his nose a bit. The green eyes behind the lens meet his with unwavering honesty and lack of judgment.

"Thank you," Kyoya replies. "And I trust you'll say nothing to my father until I have a chance to speak with him myself?"

"Of course, unless you give me reason to do otherwise. Hotta will also abide."

The phrase tells Kyoya that Tachibana won't reveal anything to Ootori Yoshio without informing Kyoya first. It's a less-than-perfect arrangement, but it works. Kyoya nods and sits back, taking the analgesic and forcing himself to relax into the contoured leather seat. He stares at the wallpaper of his cellphone. It's a photo of the Host Club entire, Haruhi sitting squarely at the center of things. Her smiling face reminds him that despite what anyone says, she's made her interest known and agreed to go out with him.

_Nothing else matters. As for Tamaki…I'll deal with him tomorrow. I've got this under control._

He just wishes he felt as certain as he tells himself.

End - Chapter 14 - Everybody Talks

* * *

Everybody Talks \- Neon Trees [Kyoya-centric]

Hey baby, won't you look my way?  
I can be your new addiction.  
Hey baby, what you gotta say?  
All you're giving me is fiction.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time.  
I found out that everybody talks,  
Everybody talks, everybody talks.

CHORUS  
It started with a whisper  
And that was when I kissed her.  
And then she made my lips hurt.  
I could hear the chitchat.  
Take me to your love shack.  
Mama's always got a backtrack  
When everybody talks back.

Hey honey, you could be my drug.  
You could be my new prescription.  
Too much could be an overdose.  
All this trash talk make me itchin'.

Oh my, my. Shit.  
Everybody talks, everybody talks,  
Everybody talks too much.

CHORUS

Never thought I'd live to see the day  
When everybody's words got in the way.

Hey sugar, show me all your love.  
All you're giving me is friction.  
Hey sugar, what you gotta say?

CHORUS

Everybody talks (5x)  
Everybody talks... back.  
It started with a whisper. (everybody talks, everybody talks)  
And that was when I kissed her. (everybody talks, everybody talks)  
Everybody talks.  
Everybody talks... back.


	15. Everything's Okay

Father and daughter sit across from one another at the low living room table, her hand resting atop his as early twilight lengthens shadows and diminishes ambient light. Haruhi pats it idly as she informs Ranka of Kyoya's and her intention to begin dating while maintaining her identity as a male. Ranka's reactions range from confused to incredulous to concerned.

"You're certain Kyoya is okay with this?" he asks.

"He's not perfectly happy about it, but he says we can manage it. I think so, too."

Ranka tips his head to one side. "But why can't you be a girl outside of school?"

"I know this sounds unlikely, but people in Kyoya's world run into one another all the time. It's a very tight circle, Dad. When we were at the mall last year, he ran into the wife of some corporate honcho who knew exactly who he was. We're going to the theater, so there's a good chance other people who know him or his family will be there or their kids, some of whom may attend Ouran."

"That's my concern." Pause. "I can't imagine Kyoya's family will tolerate a homosexual relationship for their son."

Haruhi leans in. "But it isn't. If I have to, I'll 'go girl' and that'll be the end of my life as a boy. Maybe it's time.

"It won't matter by then. At some point, there'll be consequences."

"We'll face them."

"That's all well and good for Kyoya. His place at school won't be jeopardized. Yours might be."

"I don't think wearing slacks instead of a dress is an actionable cause for discipline or dismissal."

"A what?"

"A legal reason to be expelled. I read the Ouran Academy Code of Conduct for students when I first entered. All it says is that an Ouran uniform is required school dress. It doesn't specify male or female, so it's not a legal reason for reprisal."

"My darling daughter, I admire your shrewd if naive mind, but if Kyoya's family decides that having you around their son is a detriment to his future, they'll find a way to separate you. Besides, there's something else I hadn't considered before." Ranka looks away, unable to meet her eyes.

"What's that?"

His voice drops in volume. "Even if they accept you, accepting me is non-negotiable." Ranka focuses on the small hand on his, sandwiching it between his own as he struggles with being supportive yet realistic.

The truth of his words settles into Haruhi and she looks down, as well. _But why would Kyoya even take up with me if there was no future for us? Momentary distraction? An intriguing diversion? He said that wasn't true. But…what_ _about_ _his family? I've never met any of them and Kyoya hasn't said much except that their expectations are unreasonable. But if grades are an issue then, of course, relationships must be, too._ Doubt threatens her fragile happiness about the upcoming evening and her tenable place in Kyoya's life.

Ranka's voice is soft as he tells her, "It's not too late to call this off, you know. I can call for you. I think Kyoya will understand."

"Maybe you're right." She lifts only her eyes and meets her father's. "Maybe this is foolish. I've been debating it in my head for weeks."

"I knew something was up. You haven't been sleeping _or_ eating right, but I thought it was stress from finals. But this?" Ranka shakes his head. "Weeks?"

"Well, yeah. We've been…flirting…for a while, but today was the first time I thought we might actually have a chance." _Guess it was wishful thinking._

"I'm sorry."

"No, s'ok," she says with a shrug of one shoulder. "You're probably right. I should have…" She stops, her throat closing up with emotion she can't stifle, her eyelids blinking in rapid succession, eyes filling until they glisten.

"Forget it," Ranka says, suddenly firm, his hands clasping around hers. "Your heart is already involved and whether you and he last an hour or forever, you have to find out for yourself if it's meant to be. Regrets are awful things, Haruhi, and I won't have you wonder what might have been. You and Kyoya are going to go out tonight," he avers with emphasis.

"What about what you said about his family? Or you?" Ranka lifts the covering hand and flops it towards her.

"I'll figure my part out. You just dazzle that boy."

"I'm not exactly the dazzling type. I know because some of them come to club every day. Tamaki calls them 'princess' whether they are or not and some really are royalty. I'm just Haruhi the Commoner."

"Now hold on. You are intelligent, compassionate, and beautiful. Any parent would be proud to have you as a daughter, and if the snooty Ootoris don't see the same wonderful girl that Kyoya and I do, then…fuck 'em."

"Dad!"

"I know. I know. I don't approve of swearing but sometimes it just fits."

Haruhi's tears are absorbed in her quiet laughter. "It's so funny to hear you drop an f-bomb."

"Do you think Mom heard me?" he asks in an undertone, as if Kotoko were only in the next room instead of the next dimension.

"I think she'd probably agree with you."

Ranka wrinkles his nose and nods. "I think so, too."

Haruhi gets up and heads around the table, dropping to her knees to throw her arms around Ranka's neck. "Thanks, Dad. I love you."

"I love you, too, kiddo. I just don't want to see you get hurt." Haruhi sits back on her calves.

"I know this is going to make me sound like some old lady, but I think I know something about dealing with hurt, don't you?"

Ranka considers her, his eyes drifting to Kotoko's shrine in the corner of the room and back, a sad but fond look in his eyes. "I guess you do at that."

"I'll be fine," Haruhi says in a voice meant to convince herself as much as Ranka. "I just want to enjoy whatever time Kyoya and I might have together right now. Nobody can ever promise more than that anyway."

Ranka gazes with warmth at his only child. "You're wise for your years, Haru-chan. Goodness knows there were days after your mother died when the only thing that kept me going was you. It wasn't fair of me to put that on you, but I did and it's time for me to return the favor. Now I'm here for you."

"I know that."

"Just don't scare me like you did before, okay?" He reaches out to stroke his daughter's head. "I miss your long hair. It made you look more like Mom." Haruhi enjoys the fatherly caress with a smile.

"If I go girl, I can let it grow."

"Hmm. It just might be worth it."

Her cellphone rings with a familiar ID song. "It's Kaoru," she tells Ranka and rises before answering.

"Moshi, moshi," says cheerfully, optimism restored.

"Haruhi! Glad you answered. Listen, Hika and I coming by your place to drop something off."

"Drop off what and why?" Her brows knit with suspicion.

"You'll see. It's from Kyoya-senpai."

Brows lift. "Kyoya?"

"We know everything, Haruhi," he says. "Only how come you didn't tell us?"

"Yeah," comes Hikaru's voice on the same line. "Aren't we your closest friends?"

It's not the shared con-line that stalls her, but the fact that the twins already know about The Date and from Kyoya, it seems. Sh _ould I be annoyed or flattered? Maybe both._

"Haruhi, are you there?" Kaoru is asking.

"Ummm, yeah. I'm just a little startled at how fast the Host Club grapevine operates."

"Let's just say that nothing escapes the attention of the Hitachiin brothers for long," says Hikaru.

"Though you two have been gazing at one another for a couple of weeks now," adds Kaoru.

"Kyoya and I do not gaze at each other and he only just asked me out today," Haruhi replies, vexed at their scrutiny.

"Whatever," they chime in sync.

"So…where are you and when will you be here?" she asks, an air of resignation in her voice knowing she's powerless to stop them.

"Open your front door," says Hikaru as the doorbell pings.

"Right now," says Kaoru.

Haruhi watches Ranka head over to, then open their entry door. At first, the doorway is empty. Then, from either side, in perfect tandem movement, emerge her ginger-headed classmates. She swears to herself that their mischievous grins are exactly the same as those she remembers from her Wonderland dream. _If they weren't so cute, I'd kill them._

"Good afternoon, Haruhi's dad," they greet Ranka. "May we please speak with Haruhi?"

"We have a gift for her," says Hikaru.

"From Kyoya-senpai," says Kaoru.

"A gift?" exclaims Ranka. "Oh my. Whatever can it be?"

From behind their backs, each boy pulls a white garment bag imprinted with the black and gold House of Hitachiin logo. Haruhi stills in place, her memory of Friday way too close for comfort.

"Oh no, he didn't," she groans.

"Oh yes, he di-id," says Hikaru looking amused at Haruhi's discomfort with Kyoya's gesture. They saunter into the apartment with their parcels, laying them across the table beside where Haruhi now stands, phone still open and in hand.

"You can hang up now," Kaoru whispers in her ear after glancing at the screen on her phone.

"Oh, uh, sure," she replies setting the phone on the coffee table, reluctant to know what's hidden behind the deceptively pure white covers.

"So, Hitachiin brothers, what has the mysterious Ootori Kyoya sent to my little girl?" Ranka asks as he joins them, much to Haruhi's chagrin.

"An ensemble for their date," Kaoru says.

"Outing," Hikaru argues.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Hikaru," Ranka says in that I'm-the-adult-so-I-have-to-inform-you-of-life's-harsh-realities. "But Kyoya specifically asked me for permission to take Haruhi out this evening which, as I recall, you did not." A sweat drop appears on Hikaru's brow and his lips press together in frustration.

 _Saw that one coming._ Ranka is aware of her date with Hikaru via both Misuzu's and Kyoya's reports. Misuzu she forgives. Kyoya? _I wonder if he plans on telling my dad what happens on_ _our_ _date tonight._ She stops then, mulling over what she's just told herself and what it implies. _I have a date with Kyoya. Tonight._ The butterflies in her stomach once again flutter.

Kaoru unzips a bag and pulls out a dressy jacket. Cut in straight lines to the hip in a slim-fit silhouette with narrow lapels and a dark zipper with a heavy silver H-pull. Haruhi can't help but reach out to touch it, surprised at the way the interlocking diamond-pattern quilting on its surface lends softness and suppleness to the buttery black leather. It is both timeless and modern.

Kaoru hands off the jacket to her on its hanger and she sees gray flannel trousers folded over the crossbar beneath. "The jacket is a Young Men's cut but the trousers are Junior Women's," he tells Haruhi. "We don't want you to look bad."

"Don't we?" Hikaru says looking at his brother, his tone of voice revealing contention between them.

"Hika," Kaoru chides with a tilt of his head and a pleading look. Hikaru rolls his eyes and turns away. Kaoru faces Haruhi. "We added a new pair of velvet flats and cashmere socks, too. It is still winter."

Hikaru bends over and unzips his garment bag. "And because it is, we - that is, Kaoru and I - picked this out for you." He extracts from the bag a Camel Hair coat effusively adorned with shiny gunmetal dome-buttons and a fluffy, variegated Mongolian lamb fur collar that extends half-way down both sides of the otherwise military-style coat.

The twins watch her face expectantly, especially Hikaru. Kaoru says, "We're not quite sure why senpai requested menswear, Haruhi, and we don't want to die, but this is a Woman's coat."

"That we want you to keep," finishes Hikaru.

Haruhi's eyes grow wide. She's seen the price tags on the simpler pieces they've brought to Host Club. They approach and drape their free arms around her shoulders. "Happy Birthday, Ha-ru-hi!" they chant.

Kaoru says, "We know it's a little early and you did say no fuss."

"But," adds Hikaru, "we couldn't resist."

"You guys," Haruhi begins then falls silent staring at the coat held up in Hikaru's free hand. "Thank you. It's beautiful, but I can't accept such an expensive gift."

"Of course you can," Ranka interjects. "One mustn't insult the giver of a birthday gift by refusing it, after all." He comes over and examines the jacket Kaoru holds. "Divine. Simply divine," he gushes.

Before she has a chance to object further, the boys have buttoned up Haruhi in the luxurious outerwear. They stand back, shouting, "So cute!" before they double high-five one another.

The brown-eyed girl runs a hand along the deep plush fabric of one arm, then fingers the soft fur with both. Her eyes sparkle as she looks at the identical faces watching hers. "Thank you. I love it."

"Yes, it's a wonderful present, boys," exclaims Ranka.

"We brought make-up, too," Kaoru states.

"No way," argues Haruhi, shaking her head.

"Yes, way," Hikaru insists.

Ranka interjects, "It's very haute couture for the metro-sexual crowd."

"Just a little eyeliner," adds Kaoru. "It'll be sexy-" The word is out before he can recall it and he casts a worried look towards Ranka whose icy glare freezes the boy in place.

Haruhi stifles a smile, finding herself caught by Kaoru's word. "Sexy?" she intones, as if such an appellation could never apply to herself. _Me?_ Once again, she recalls the image of the girl in Friday's mirror. _That girl was sexy, not me. But it was me and it can be me again, if I want it to be. The question is: do I?_

"We'll see about that," Ranka informs. "Now go and get ready while I have a chat with these clearly confused young men." Haruhi hesitates. Ranka holds out the outfit bag towards the girl. As he does, it rustles a bit. "What else is in here?" he questions the twins, his eyes narrowing.

"Just something pretty to wear under the jacket," Kaoru explains a bit nervously.

"What are you talking about, Kaoru?" Hika demands turning to his brother. "What did you add?"

"Just a top."

"A top," Hikaru says pinning his brother with his eyes. "You don't mean the one you suggested before I slammed that idea to the ground, do you?"

"Hikaru, it's a beautiful piece and it'll look great on her."

"What happened to the shirt and tie I picked out?"

"It was boring and you know how I feel about boring."

"Okay," Haruhi interrupts. "Now, I'm worried."

"Just put it on, Haruhi. Please? You can keep the jacket zipped up all night if that's what you want to do."

"What do you mean? What kind of top is it?" Now, she's anxious.

Hikaru is glowering at Kaoru and Kaoru is looking a bit sheepish.

"Well," Hikaru says. "Tell her."

"It's a…bustier."

"Oh." That's all Haruhi says, surprising herself with her equanimity. _I've worn those doing historical cosplay and I do have the jacket._ She peeks inside the bag and zips it up before Ranka can see what's inside.

Despite her earlier self-admonition to the contrary, she finds herself wondering what Kyoya will think of the ensemble, remembering the effect of the dress. _Which, I must admit, probably played a part in getting us to this point._ A quick flashback in her mind to the afternoon has a devilish little smile quirk up one corner of her mouth before she can stop herself _._ "Give that to me, please," she says, taking the garment bag from Ranka.

"Haruhi, perhaps I should have a look at it," her father cautions.

"Kaoru said it's a beautiful piece and it is. It's couture and it would be rude to refuse after they've gone to so much trouble, wouldn't it? Besides, I'll have the jacket over it, right Kaoru?" She turns her head to consider the younger twin who nods with a knowing smile that she returns. _You're a sly one, Hitachiin Kaoru, but at least you're on my side. I don't know about Hikaru._

Said Hitachiin refuses to look at her. She knows why but there's no way to ameliorate his rejection except one. She heads over to him and stands directly in front of him, waiting until he looks at her. When he does, she says, "You and Kaoru have become like brothers to me, you know that, right?"

The elder twin regards her steadily. "We have?"

"Who else do I go to class with, have lunch with, study with, talk to and yell at more than anyone else?"

"Nobody?"

"Correct. Nobody. I'm glad you've let me into your world but if you want to be a part of mine, you have to respect my feelings about things. Can you do that?"

Hikaru looks at his twin who comes over and puts his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Absolutely. Consider us your big brothers. We'll look out for you, right Hika?"

Hikaru's mouth scrunches up a bit, then relaxes. "Okay. That means Kyoya better mind his manners around you. That's all I'm gonna say."

Haruhi steps in and plants a kiss on Hikaru's cheek, then Kaoru's. They blush in uncustomary fashion.

"Then it's settled," she declares.

As she heads to her bedroom, she hears her dad telling the twins to take a seat on the couch.

_It'll all work out. Everything's okay._

End - Chapter 15 - Everything's Okay

* * *

Everything's Okay \- Lenka [Haruhi-centric]

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, "Everything's okay."

Woke my weary head. Crawled out of my bed  
And I said, "Oh, how do I go on?"  
Nothing's going right, shadow's took the light  
And I said, "Oh, how do I go on?"

Sometimes I need a little sunshine  
And sometimes I need you.

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little…

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, "Everything's okay."

Everything's okay.

I gave my hope to you  
When you were nearly through  
And you said, "Oh, I can't go on."  
Well, now I need it back  
'Cause I have got a lack of all that's good  
And I can't go on.

Yeah, sometimes I just need a little sunshine  
And sometimes I need you.

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little…

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, "Everything's okay."

Everything's okay. (7x)

Sometimes I need a little sunshine  
And sometimes I need you.

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little...

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little…

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, everything's okay.


	16. Start of Something Good

A mantle of indigo sky arches above the city - stars winking along its span like a handful of diamonds flung from an otherworldly hand. The sidewalks and streets glisten from the steady melt that's been ongoing since morning. Reflections of light from traffic signals, shop windows and cars add color and contrast to the usually drab surfaces. Tokyo Sunday is a melange of people and events squeezing in the last of the weekend's merriment before the crush of Monday morning's strictly business attitude.

The black Bentley pulls up directly in front of Haruhi's building, a second dark car parking thirty feet behind. Kyoya emerges from the first vehicle, his affect revealing nothing. He climbs the outside staircase and pauses at Haruhi's landing, a small flash of dizziness overtaking him. His meds had caused him to fall asleep and he woke up irritable, unsated, and running late. He's nervous and he doesn't get nervous. Ever.

"Young Master?" Tachibana is already at his side.

"I'm fine."

"Do you require water? It's important that you stay hydrated."

"I realize this. It may be the new medication. I don't know, but we are _not_ going home."

The attendant knows better than to argue but pulls a pint-sized water bottle from his inside jacket pocket and waits until Kyoya downs it complete.

"Thank you for your concern." The man takes the empty and, once more, disappears. Kyoya walks the remaining distance to Haruhi's door. Only the tapping of his hand against his thigh betrays disequilibrium. _Calm, cool and collected, Ootori. Give nothing away and maintain your persona._ He presses the doorbell.

"Hello, Kyoya," Ranka says as he answers the door. His voice is deeper in pitch without any trace of affectation and he's changed into simple jeans and a black Bay Stars Starman tee-shirt. "Won't you come in, please?"

"Thank you," Kyoya says as he enters the apartment for the second time that day. It's the same place it's always been, yet different now because _it's where_ _she_ _lives._

"Actually," Ranka says in a somewhat serious tone of voice. "I think it would be more appropriate if you address me as Ryoji-san from now on, don't you?"

 _Is this the same man I spoke with this afternoon?_ "In light of recent developments, that seems logical. And I can assure you that Haruhi will be equally respected and well-protected whilst in my company." He presses a raised button discreetly affixed to the alligator band of the Panerai inherited from his grandfather. Seconds later, the doorbell pings.

"Oh. Who can that be?" Ryoji asks.

"My bodyguard," Kyoya explains. "May I admit him?"

"Of course," Ryoji says, eyes blinking with surprise.

Kyoya opens the door and Tachibana enters, dressed in black from his shades to his shoes but for the immaculate white dress shirt beneath the black-on-black necktie. He stands in silence just behind his young master who says, "Fujioka Ryoji, Seizaburo Tachibana." The severe-looking man steps forward and bows low to Ryoji, who has never had any adult bow with such deference to him. "He, along with the rest of my personal guard, is charged with ensuring my safety and that of anyone else I choose. It is their occupation and their responsibility."

"Well, I certainly am impressed. I had no idea that such precautions were necessary."

"It's not my preference, but my parents insist. Haruhi will also be under their protection while she's in my company."

"Is that really necessary?" Haruhi asks, her voice coming from behind her dad.

Ryoji turns in place. "Haruhi, you look beautiful."

Kyoya breaks his usual stoic stance, unable to resist peering around the man to see the girl who has just entered the kitchen from the living room. She's still the petite brunette he remembers: cropped brown hair, soulful eyes and bright smile. But she's not at all what he expected.

The outfit she wears is elegant and simple. _Something I might have chosen myself. Kudos, Hitachiins._ His quick impression is followed by an unwitting perusal of his favorite Haruhi assets - the curve of her hips, her concave waist and convex breasts concealed beneath the tailored jacket, the flash of silver at her delicate throat beneath the short vee of collar, zipped up to a modest closure. _Playing coy, Haruhi?_

Her brown hair, usually brushed into simple lines, is gelled and softly spiked, giving both height and glam while bringing out her best features - her eyes which are highly defined, outlined with kohl and mascara in a way that makes her seem like some exotic flower. She is male without being masculine and female without being feminine. In effect, she's nearly androgynous and… "Absolutely perfect," he says softly, his words mirroring his exact thoughts.

"High praise from you, senpai," Haruhi says, those hypnotic eyes reflecting both amusement and pleasure at his unguarded compliment.

"Kyoya, remember?" his eyes holding warmth and his voice much too much affection for the setting, but he can't stop himself.

"I know," she teases, faint color on her cheeks.

A throat clears itself and Kyoya is reminded that they are not the only people in the room. He drops his eyes, retreating behind the glint of his glasses, aware that he's been staring. _What's gotten into me?_ He pushes at his specs, but his eyes wander back to where she waits.

"Yes, she is, indeed perfect," Ryoji agrees, noting Kyoya's interest while moving to where Haruhi stands, putting his arm around her shoulder without bringing her further into the room. The message from father to suitor piques Kyoya's innate competitiveness.

 _Of course he's possessive; he's her father. But it's time Haruhi moved into a bigger and more exciting world. I can give her that and more._ Kyoya steps forward and offers his hand. Haruhi takes it and moves towards him, away from Ryoji who reluctantly releases his daughter, looking forlorn.

Haruhi intertwines her fingers with Kyoya's. They're cool against his own and he loves the way she holds onto him. The protective feeling he experienced earlier in the day returns along with an effusive warmth that radiates throughout his body. _Just a side effect of the meds, I'm sure._

"Haruhi, may I present Tachibana-san? He was at the commoners' supermarket the day we all went with you." Tachibana steps forward and crisply bows to her.

She bows slightly, uncertain of her status in the situation. "It was so crazy that day. I'm sorry if I don't recall seeing you. Hello."

"There's no need to apologize or to converse," Kyoya explains. "Tachibana is not meant to be seen or heard, only to be present and alert."

"Ah so. Well," she says looking at the somber faced man with a small smile. "It's still very nice to meet you." Kyoya holds up a hand towards the man and he bows once more to the assemblage and leaves the apartment.

Haruhi turns to Kyoya. "I never realized you required such security."

"It may seem a bit paranoid, but coming from an elite family, there is the potential of plots of all sorts against different members. More than people know. Not against myself, not yet, which I consider fortunate. Then again, Tachibana has been with me since I was a child and his loyalty and skills are unquestioned." Kyoya turns to Ryoji. "I hope I have allayed any concerns you might have."

"Uh- yes, somewhat. And you have your cellphone, Haruhi?" Ryoji gives his daughter a knowing look which Haruhi dismisses with a sigh.

"Yes, dad, but there's no need to call me." Father and daughter regard one another in silent communication.

"Haruhi," Kyoya interjects, "The temperature has dropped. You may wish to wear a coat." He gestures towards her duffel coat pegged beside the door.

"Oh!" she replies brightly. "Be right back." She disappears into her bedroom and in the brief interim, Ryoji approaches Kyoya.

"Do have a lovely evening, Kyoya-kun, and remember our chat from this afternoon, will you?" _Kyoya-kun?_ The older man gives the younger man a sweet smile with eyes that hold distinct warning. _Definitely the same man I met this afternoon._

"Of course, Ryoji-san. I will be a complete gentleman." Kyoya gives Ryoji his best host smile.

"I highly recommend it," the teddy-bear-okama-gone-tiger-dad replies in a dulcet tone. "Because I will know if you aren't." Kyoya nods once, point taken.

"I'm ready," Haruhi sings out as she re-enters the room wearing her new and extravagant polo coat.

Kyoya is taken aback. "This is a surprise." _You should have told me, Kaoru. Or was this Hikaru's idea?_

"It's a gift from the twins for my birthday," she explains, buttoning up the lavish garment against the distinctive Hitachiin pattern of the challis scarf loosely tied at her neck so it's visible between the shaggy lapels.

"Is it?" he says, his irritation masked. "I must admit, they do have excellent taste and it quite becomes you." _Definitely one-upsmanship Hitachiin style, since the scarf alone is worth several hundred yen, let alone the coat. Add to that the fact that they know I'm planning a party for her next weekend. But for Haruhi's sake, I'll take it up with them privately, tomorrow._

"Thank you. I think so, too," she says, her excitement apparent. Upon reaching the door, Kyoya pushes it open and Haruhi turns towards her father with a wave. "See you later."

"Yes, my darling, you shall," Ryoji says in a Ranka-like voice that worries Kyoya just a bit.

Outside, they take a few steps and stop as Haruhi pulls on her leather gloves. Breath mists in front of their faces in the cold, clear air that engulfed the city after sunset. Below them, a small crowd has gathered to gawk at the elegant vehicle parked curbside.

Kyoya grabs Haruhi's gloved hand and wraps it around his arm, covering it with his own. The moon has risen and silvery light coats every surface. He looks down at the shining face of the girl looking up at him, her pleasure in his company obvious.

"Ready?" he asks, genuinely excited about something other than business for the first time in a very long time.

"For anything," she responds and he smiles; not a host smile, but his own.

"Kyoya," she says as if he's surprised her.

"Yes?"

"You're very handsome when you really smile."

He's not one to blush and he's heard flattery in his time; but her simple observation, one made as if she hadn't ever noticed his looks before just now, pleases him immensely. _Why should that be? Because it comes from her heart, as her words always do._ He leans his face towards hers just a bit. "If your father weren't standing less than ten feet away watching us discreetly from the other side of the window over there, I'd kiss you."

She reaches up and presses a finger to his lips. "Hold that thought," she says.

"R-right," he says, a small frisson of pleasure running up his spine at her intimation. They descend the staircase and head to the car with a somewhat determined air.

Haruhi recognizes the man standing beside the open car door as the same one who drove her home several weeks ago. "This is Hotta-san, my driver," Kyoya says politely. Haruhi simply nods towards the man whose somewhat scary appearance keeps her from a more genial greeting.

They slip into the vehicle and Haruhi slides to the opposite side of the bench, the same way she did the last time she was a passenger in an Ootori vehicle. The door seals with a solid thud with Hotta and Tachibana in the front seat. Kyoya names a sushi restaurant whose reservation wait list is three months long. All it took from him was a phone call to the proprietor and a subtle drop of his name to achieve a coveted table for two.

 _So far so good._ Hotta and Tachibana are loyal to him, but his father is adept at coercing information from any employee he chooses. Kyoya won't put his retainers into such a position if he can help it so he casually lifts the privacy divider while observing Haruhi's reaction. She fails to notice anything extraordinary about it.

 _Ahh, innocence. Such a captivating quality in a girl, though unwise. I thought she'd learned that lesson and from me, no less. That is, unless...she wants it, too?_ The idea is thrilling and he's very sorry he didn't have a chance to work off his excess libido. He sighs. Everything will be magnified in intensity for him and keeping his cool a bigger hassle than obtaining the simple kiss he wants from her before they reach the restaurant. _Self-imposed challenge: kiss Haruhi before we reach the restaurant without letting it go to your head. Odds of success - high. Difficulty level - moderate._

Kyoya is secure in his ability to meet mental challenges, self-imposed or otherwise. It's the emotional ones that usually do him in.

_It's going to be an interesting evening._

End - Chapter 16 - Start of Something Good

* * *

Start of Something Good \- Daughtry [Kyoya-centric]

You never know when you're gonna meet someone  
And your whole wide world in a moment comes undone.  
You're just walking around then, suddenly,  
Everything that you thought that you knew above love is gone.  
You find out it's all been wrong.  
And all my scars don't seem to matter anymore  
'Cause they led me here to you.

I know that it's gonna take some time.  
I got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind  
This might end up like it should.  
I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away.  
Don't want to be misunderstood.  
But I'm starting to believe that  
This could be the start of something good.

Everyone knows life has its ups and downs.  
One day you're on top of the world  
And one day you're the clown.  
Well, I've been both enough to know  
That you don't want get in the way when it's working out  
The way that it is right now.  
You see, my heart - I wear it on my sleeve  
'Cause I just can't hide it anymore.

I know that it's gonna take some time.  
I got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind  
This might end up like it should.  
I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away.  
Don't want to be misunderstood.  
But I'm starting to believe that  
This could be the start…

'Cause I don't know where it's going.  
There's a part of me that loves not knowing.  
Just don't let it end before we begin.  
You never know when you're gonna meet someone.  
And your wide world in a moment comes undone.

I know that it's gonna take some time.  
I got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind  
This might end up like it should.  
I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away.  
Don't want to be misunderstood.  
But I'm starting to believe…

Oh, I'm starting to believe that  
This could be the start of something good.


	17. Fire in My Heart

Kyoya settles back into the leather upholstery and looks over at the girl seated a few feet from him. She's waving to someone beyond the car and a small, unwitting smile possesses him. _So like her._ But he finds her gesture reassuring as it reminds him that, no matter how different and enticing she appears, she is still Haruhi - the smart, rational and even tempered young woman whose common sense is uncommonly wise and who… _just makes everything better._ But he is enticed.

They pull away from the curb and head into traffic. Kyoya activates the CD player and Tamaki's deft playing wafts out. It's a compilation the blond made with each Host's favorite piece given as a holiday gift. _Wonderful music but not the best choice for tonight, I think. No, definitely not._ He's still irked by Tamaki's recklessness on the telephone that afternoon. _A pointed conversation is definitely in order._ He replaces Tamaki's playing with that of a string quartet set at low volume and sits back once more, unbuttoning his sheepskin trench and turning down the deep plush collar.

The silence between Haruhi and himself is comfortable in a way Kyoya would never have dreamed possible when they first met. More than anyone else, they seemed to live in worlds so dissimilar that never the 'twain could meet. Yet, somehow, as time passed, it was Haruhi who often came to stand beside him or sit next to him on the sofa, quietly observing as he filled his netbook with data while she conversed with him about people. They'd been learning about one another all along, only he never realized it. _Imagine that_.

Haruhi slips off her gloves and pockets them. She continues to watch the scenery slide by and he just watches her. He's seen her in cosplay of all sorts, even in frilly dresses and gowns. She's always been what hosts and guests alike called "cute," yet as he studies her pert profile, face aglow from the neon lights beyond, he sees something utterly different. She fairly shimmers and, in his eyes, _she's beautiful._

He wants her to feel special, to spoil her with things she doesn't even know she wants, and have it all appear spontaneous, though impeccably planned. _Yet it's spontaneity that's gotten us this far; quite ironic for the Shadow King. Perhaps planning belongs in business and academics, but not love. Yet isn't love an illusion? There's no such thing as giving without getting, right?_ His statements of only a few days prior sting his sensibilities.

Haruhi finally turns to face him, her eyes lit from within. Teensy wrinkles in the corners evidence her delight as she presses her arm into the back of the bench and considers him with a gentle smile.

_She seems so different tonight - someone I know and yet don't know at all. Just sixteen, yet there's a maturity about her that's authentic. Then again, it is Haruhi, who can adapt to whomever she encounters, understanding their needs before they're aware of them themselves, including mine._

… _"I'm not sure what your gain in this will be but there has to be something. Is it power, control or possession?"…_

_My gain, Haruhi, is you._

He wishes he'd stowed the annoying arm rest that separates them. In the large vehicle, distance is altogether maintainable and he wants her closer.

"Penny for your thoughts," she says, leaning a forearm on said barrier. "Though I'm guessing you'd charge more since I'm certain they're more intriguing than the average person's, in their own way, of course."

His small smile broadens a little at her witty jibe. "Undoubtedly. I am an Ootori, after all, but for you I'll make an exception despite the fact that you seem to be quite capable of guessing people's thoughts fairly well."

"I don't know about that. Things just seem obvious to me."

"My point, exactly. Most people are oblivious to anything beyond the tip of their nose, whereas you're not. And there have been numerous times when your intuition proved more beneficial than any analysis I could provide, on top of which you have an uncanny way of reducing complex situations to their basic elements."

"Thank you, though I'm not exactly sure what you mean," she replies, focused on him, awaiting explanation. He likes her attentiveness.

"Take us, for example."

"Us?"

"We're a complex situation, if ever there was one. Yet, I have no doubt you've reduced it all in your mind to simple facts which you will now share with me."

She squints her eyes a bit, then says, "Well, the way I see it is that we've been aware of one another without really considering one another as anything other than friends. And now we are."

"Friends?"

"Other than."

"You see? Complexity made simple."

"We'll see," she says, her mouth twitching up at one side, teensy wrinkles re-appearing.

"Failure is not an option, Haruhi," he informs somewhat seriously.

"And why is that?"

 _Because I want you. Because I will have you. Because I care..._ He pauses as his deepening affection pushes to reveal itself. Mind, body, feeling. It's an endless three-way circuit with no set start or stop point.

"Because it…just…isn't," he responds sounding preoccupied, leaving Haruhi looking bemused.

_Don't get carried away like a frivolous girl, Ootori. This isn't a client's daughter or a randy young socialite you have to amuse or satisfy. Haruhi is here because she genuinely likes you and not just your social standing or bank account. And she's still relatively innocent. But that's why…_

"You're probably wondering how many vehicles my family owns as this is not the same one you rode in before," he says nonchalantly to head off his thoughts with the first thing that comes to mind. _Argh. Insipid comment._

"Huh? Kyoya, just how do you do that?" Haruhi asks, allowing their line of conversation to shift as easily as that. He relaxes and leans towards to her, angling his torso. He's determined to keep a firm grip on his emotions which seem to be getting more and more out of hand. _Damn meds._

"Anticipate your questions? I told you, it's simple deduction." His voice postures Ootori smugness and he pauses, noticing how he must sound to her. "And a lucky guess," he adds in a simpler tone of voice, determined to simply be himself and not the third son of the Ootori family who must do everything just right and better. Despite Tamaki's liberating influence, he still lapses into that role when he's not completely sure of himself and it still serves well, though it's not the person he wants Haruhi to know tonight. Tonight he wants only to be Kyoya.

"It really doesn't matter, does it?" he continues, speaking truth. "And I confess I'm not certain as my brothers often borrow them for weeks at a time."

"That makes sense."

"Does it?" He sighs. "I sometimes wonder if they're independent at all. Or perhaps my father just enjoys keeping them on a long leash with things of that nature."

"Is that typical for families like yours?" she asks, genuinely interested.

He hesitates. It's not like him to speak of family matters in depth with anyone. Not even Tamaki knows the half of it _. The Ootori Legacy - a history of outrageous manipulation and untold skeletons in the family closet._ _Still, knowing about my family matters to her, it seems, and understanding how wealthy families operate can only help her navigate those shark-infested waters…when the time comes._

"Very likely," he says. "Tamaki's family, Kaoru and Hikaru's, Mori-senpai's, Honey-senpai's," he replies to her innocent question, knowing it to be true of many upper-crust clans. "Our lives are directed and carefully managed, done so for our own good or so it's claimed." _Control of people, events and anything else money can buy. A time-worn strategy._ "Though it wouldn't be thoroughly fair to generalize based on personal experience alone."

"So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you plan on following the path or blazing a trail?"

 _Once again, you challenge and impress me._ Only now it feels like an invitation, not an indictment. "That's a unique way of putting it. I suppose I'll have to make that decision once my university studies are completed. My father will cover that but professional studies may be on my shoulders if I refuse to go along with his choice for my career. Both my brothers had their professional degrees paid for by my father who, in turn, employs them. My sister, Fuyumi, has the same offer but she hasn't pursued graduate studies despite her keen intelligence."

Haruhi's interest ratchets up a notch. "I didn't know you have a sister. She must be very pretty."

"Quite lovely and sweet-natured. You'd like her. She's married and lives in the Roppongi Hills area with her husband." _Neighborhood name dropping? Stop now, please._

"Are your brothers married, too?"

"Yuuichi is, though I wouldn't say happily. Akito enjoys playing the field, as he would say, although those days are coming to an end."

"Why is that?"

"He's a few years shy of turning thirty and my parents insist that, as sons who must perpetuate the family name, we marry by that age to someone of suitable pedigree."

"Oh," Haruhi says quietly, her eyes dropping from his as she draws back.

 _Shiite. Why did I go there?_ "Haruhi?" he calls softly.

"What is it?" she replies without looking at him.

"Why are you so far away?" More than a simple query about physical space, Kyoya wonders how he can bridge the social chasm between them and if he, himself, isn't part of the problem. Their equality is real in so many other ways: their intelligence, their drive, their wit...their heat.

Things between them now are unlike the last ride they shared in a limo when he wouldn't even acknowledge the hand she deliberately laid on the center arm rest, concerned as he was about Tamaki's feelings despite the budding of his own. Now, he stows the median between them into the recess of the bench's back and extends his arm towards her, gesturing with fingers turned down for her to come closer. She spies his hand and lifts her chin, her eyes meeting his once more. _Is she angry, hurt? Neither or both?_

"How my brothers allow my father to run their lives is their choice. I don't intend to let him make those choices for me. Didn't you chide me earlier today for even considering allowing my father to determine my future?"

"Does he know about us and tonight?" she asks outright.

Her bluntness reminds him of another conversation about his family role held with someone else who is important to him. Her query now, like Tamaki's observations then, is an innocent feint to gather information, but which ultimately reveals weakness or strength on his part. For a few moments, the brunet doesn't respond as his frustration with his best friend's overwrought emotions and his father's lack of appreciation tear at him in equal measure. _At least Tamaki will hear what I have to say._

"He wasn't at home when I got there and he wasn't at home when I left again," Kyoya responds trying to keep his voice even. "That's typical of our contact, but I will speak to him. I promise you."

"What about your mother?" _No, and this topic is closed._

"I'd rather not speak about her right now. In fact, I'd much rather not talk at all." The beckoning fingers turn into an outstretched open palm. Haruhi considers him. _Wondering if I'll actually tell them about us aren't you? Truth is, I'm not sure how, but I will._ "Please," he urges, needing to set things right between them once more.

She takes in a breath, holds it a second or two, then releases. He watches her shoulders drop. _She's still wary of me and why shouldn't she be?_ But she trusted him earlier today. Her response to him was earnest. Body memory inflames his thoughts and sends a flush of yearning through him and a mild urgency in his groin. He wants to hold her, caress her, to touch her skin and kiss her mouth. And he wants it _now_. He leans towards her only a bit. "Haru..." he murmurs.

And, as if the way he says her name, intimate in its way, can vanquish her misgivings, she negates the space between, settling into the niche his arm creates around her to pull her closer. His senses are heightened by her proximity and he notices that she's wearing a different perfume than before, this one a Fougere scent that enlivens his senses. _The twins again? Or Ryoji-san? No, definitely the twins._ But his huff is mitigated by the girl nestled beside him, as if his twisted soul is less so by virtue of her nearness. He places a soft kiss on her forehead to remind himself that _he_ is the one with Haruhi tonight and no one else.

He feels her sigh as she leans into him, her hands in her lap. "That's better," he says, his cheek pressed to where his lips just left. "I was beginning to think we were back at Square One."

She pulls away a bit and he looks down to see her sideways glance. "And just what's that supposed to mean?" she asks.

Kyoya grabs the collar of her coat with his free hand, his thumb fingering the fur. "This really is a lovely pelt. I shall have to do something equally wonderful for you to match the whims of the Hitachiin brothers." _Non-reply via obfuscation in play._

"There's no need for that. You being with me tonight is enough."

"I've been raised to believe that enough is never enough, that more is better."

"Well, we differ that way. I just hope that I'm enough."

She says it without rancor or insecurity. He drops his face until their aspects are parallel. Her eyes are nearly as gray as his own in the shadowy light and therein he sees the straightforward attitude he's grown to appreciate.

"No," he says, as if considering her words. "I don't think so."

"Oh?" she breathes, stymied by his words, a trace of worry in those discerning eyes.

"I'll never get enough of you," he confesses sotto voce, wanting to dispel any and all doubt. "I told you I don't do things half-way. I'm either all in or not at all."

He holds her gaze, his face nearing hers with unerring precision. A few inches more…and she turns her face ever so slightly, suddenly shy. _As if this afternoon never happened. No, sweet girl, moving in reverse is disallowed._ But he doesn't insist. Instead, he tips his head to one side and whispers beside her ear, "Kiss me."

It would easy enough to nudge her face back to his, but he wants her to do it of her own accord. She must do more than simply turn now, needs to lean back and angle her chin so that her lips are close to his. Her movement is slow, deliberate and ever so evocative for him, excitement rising as an aching warmth in his lower abdomen. But he waits. Waits, until he sees her eyes, soft with emotion, before closing his own. Waits, until he feels the gentle press of her lips to his, innocent in execution, devastating in effect. He disciplines himself to remain still, even as the urge to embrace her swirls through him, the ache warming further and settling lower inside of him.

Their barely parted lips trade subtle, minute kisses, their breath mingling, tenderness and desire mixed. It is a chaste exchange, but that is its magic. Her hand clutches his coat while his drops into his lap, purposely keeping himself in check while keeping Haruhi involved. Potential swirls around them like a ribbon of gold wrapping the gift they give of themselves to one another.

The flame that's flared and flickered between them is now an ever-present burn for him - her effect on him sharp, her lips a confection he can't resist as his linger against hers without pressure, simply absorbing her closeness, her sweetness and her lack of resistance while his heart pounds in his chest and his mind grows cloudy, intoxication-by-Haruhi claiming logic. _Never, never enough._

A minute passes in silence, the only sound their heartbeats, their breathing and the sweet harmony of a viola and a violin romancing a tune. At length, she pulls back and lifts her hand, holding small space between them with it pressed flat against his chest.

"One more," he cajoles, opening his eyes to find hers on him. _Taking note of my reactions?_

"Uh-uh," she denies, though staying within a few inches of contact. "Too many sweets before dinner will spoil your appetite." Their words are soft, heard only by one another.

"A trite aphorism and 'a priori' conclusion at best," he intones with mock derision.

"No, an 'a pro-stériori' conclusion, albeit under literal and not symbolic circumstances, trite aphorisms notwithstanding" she retorts.

That gets her a soft chuckle and furthers his admiration. _Clever girl_. "I daresay I'm lucky you're not a second year, Haruhi. Tamaki and Ayame-chan might feel threatened in their class standing."

"And you wouldn't?" she inquires with a speck of sarcasm.

"You really should be in the Debate Club."

"I was, in middle school. And that _was_ my intention before a certain Host Club made me their dog," she scolds without anger.

"But you stayed; no pun intended, of course."

She shakes her head at him, lips pressed together. "I have to admit it's been entertaining."

"And had you joined the Debate Club, we might not be sitting here right now."

"I wonder. You seem like the Debate Club type yourself."

"It _was_ my intention," he mimics. "Before a certain blond idiot convinced me otherwise."

"Really?"

"Remind me to tell you about it, some time. Just not now. I deal with Tamaki on a regular basis and I'd rather he not appear in either conversation or person tonight. I just want to focus on you." He moves to kiss her again, but she presses two fingers to his lips.

"I'm flattered," she says, her non-verbal communication clear. He takes her hand into his own and kisses her wrist in compensation, then presses it along with his own over his heart _._

"Actually, I'm the one who's flattered. Had you revealed yourself as a girl back when Tamaki first suggested it, there's no doubt that you would be on the arm of many of Ouran's young turks on a regular basis. I would merely be the co-founder of the odd but exceedingly popular Ouran High School Host Club. No more, no less."

"Isn't that what you told me our first kiss was going to be?"

"Did I? It seems I was mistaken."

"You really _have_ changed in the last year."

"Was I so awful when we first met?" _There was much going on at home, then._

"A bit self-absorbed, maybe, but I knew there was a better man lurking inside."

"Please…let's not put a halo on my head or compare me to Tamaki again. I have a reputation to maintain." Her low-pitched, song-like laughter delights him.

"I thought we weren't bringing Tamaki into the conversation," she reminds, sitting back with hands still entwined as she turns fully to face him.

"We're not. Forget I mentioned his name. Forget him altogether."

"Fine. I'd much rather talk about you, anyway."

"There isn't much for you to know." _Right now._ "I've told you that."

"You were a child once. Tell me something about that." Her interest is so genuine that he's tempted to tell her things he's never told anyone, not even Tamaki. Then he recalls his German literature and Goethe's advice: "Every step of life shows much caution is required."

He pulls into himself, unsettled by her curiosity. "My childhood is not the stuff of fairy tales and happy endings."

"Neither is mine." Her eyes hold his, hers holding the same trace of sadness as his own.

"Please forgive me. I don't mean to dampen your spirits on our first date."

"I'm not sad, just a little melancholy."

"About your mother?" Her surprised but pleased reaction means he's deduced correctly. _Intuition and acumen are lovers, after all._

"I would have liked her to help me get ready tonight, maybe let me wear her perfume. You know. Instead, I was outfitted by the twins and my dad."

"Not literally," he says, though it's more like a question. _Note to self: remind the twins as to why they should be afraid of me. Very afraid._

"As if, though they offered. They just brought the outfit over and did my eyes. My dad laced me up."

 _Laced you up?_ Those three little words rivet Kyoya's thoughts. What's more, he finds it a little harder to breathe.

"What do you mean: laced you up?" he asks, his imagination and his libido blossoming despite his best intentions.

"Hikaru was supposed to bring a shirt and tie but Kaoru swapped it out for a bustier. It's quite pretty." _Are you trying to make me crazy?_

His mind races to gain control over himself as Haruhi's outfit tonight is enhanced in his mind by the addition of… _a bustier with laces?_ He softly groans to himself.

 _New self-challenge: get Haruhi to take off her jacket. Odds of success - moderate. Difficulty level - challenging._ Beyond that immediate goal, he can't allow himself to consider. The image of Ootori Yoshio in a huge Usa-chan costume is forced to the forefront of his mind.

_Dammit!_

End - Chapter 17 - Fire in My Heart

* * *

Fire in My Heart \- Simple Plan [Kyoya-centric]

I betcha didn't know you started up a chain reaction.  
I saw no intention on your face.  
It must have been some kind of chemical attraction.  
I felt the spark. It left a mark I can't erase (I can't erase).

It's like... (oh, oh)  
Something like a bolt of lightning  
(Oh, oh) Is going on inside.

'Cause I'm burning up. It ain't no joke.  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
And it's my self-control goes up in smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart! (Fire in my heart) (2x)

It was kicking that beat, steady in my body (in my body),  
'Til you pumped it up with gasoline.  
You struck a match and, just like that, you got me.  
Now I'm the brightest firework you've ever seen.

It's like... (oh, oh)  
No, there's no need to run for water.  
(Oh, oh) Don't ever put me out.

'Cause I'm burning up. It ain't no joke.  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
(Caught up in a blaze with no way out)  
And it's my self-control goes up smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart! (Fire in my heart) (2x)

Oh, oh. So come and warm your hands around me.  
Oh, oh. I will light you up tonight.

Cause I'm burning up. It ain't no joke.  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
(Caught up in a blaze with no way out)  
And it's my self-control goes up smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart!

Cause I'm burning up it ain't no joke,  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
And it's my self-control goes up smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart! (Fire in my heart) (3x)


	18. Catch Me

Traffic sprawls like a tentacled behemoth caught in the snare of a net that is the Tokyo street grid. Progress has gone from slow movement to complete lockdown. The two adolescents in the backseat of the elegant vehicle, however, are oblivious to everything except for one another.

Haruhi is hardly innocent in her remarks, though she says them as a statement of fact. _I'm not that naïve and I have learned a thing or two about how the male mind operates - visuals are everything, imagined or real._

The impact of her words, however, is clear and immediate. Kyoya's lack of retort, the barest narrowing of his eyes and his nearly soundless groan in response to her mention of the heretofore unknown garment is both amusing and gratifying.

 _So Kaoru was right after all._ She struggles to contain the smile that threatens to become a chortle. _I don't want to be a tease, but I can't let an opportunity like this pass by. After all, turnabout is foreplay._ She can't help but let a few bubbles of laughter escape her, but Kyoya is caught in his own mind and doesn't react.

_Be fair, Haruhi. Fair?! He kept that secret about the vase from me. And then there's the matter of his snooping - still! I think it's time the inscrutable Ootori Kyoya learned the meaning of the word 'comeuppance.'_

"Kyoya" she calls as if waking a small child from a nap, looking him directly in the eyes. He blinks rapidly a few times and she sees reality re-emerge in his visage. She smiles at him and a secretive smile is returned, his active focus on her restored. She leans in, wide eyes betraying nothing of the mischief that lurks within. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine." His dismissive manner belies the disequilibrium she just witnessed as he leans in closer, too.

"I kinda- lost you- for a bit." She grows closer to him with every phrase, letting her eyes deliberately drop to his mouth than slowly re-lift to his eyes. He leans in closer, too. _Closer_ _is_ _better. And he is so very delicious. Teasing can wait until we've tried that again._ Her forwardness seems to confound him.

"I was just…thinking about…something." His eyes search hers.

"Me, too," she breathes, caught in his unwavering focus and a little scared of where it's all going, but ready to confront her fears.

She tips her face towards his and they melt in the middle, lips catching one another's. This time he doesn't hesitate to take her into his arms. The ardor she remembers returns and she feels an immediate wave of heat wash over her, making her weak as his lips slide against hers with intent, refusing quarter and spiking her pulse. _Kami-sama help me._ But she wants it.

She's subject to the relentless pursuit of her mouth by his and she parts her lips for him just as she did that afternoon. He tastes spicy, like peppermint, only better since it's mixed with his own unique flavor. She reaches up and around his neck, fingers stroking involuntarily at the nape. Her burgeoning addiction to him sends a flicker of pleasure to her center, the muscles between her legs clenching as a pleasurable warmth effuses her there. An instinctive purr escapes her. _Did he hear that?_

He responds by running the tip of his tongue along her upper lip caught between his two, inciting her need for greater contact. He must read her mind because he pulls her even closer, both arms wrapped securely around her, guaranteeing that she doesn't flee prematurely.

This is nothing like the boyish kisses the hosts bestow on the cheeks of their guests or the lingering touches left along their arms or their backs, the barest hint of what human sexuality offers. Kyoya is eighteen - a young man with a young man's appetites. _How am I going to keep things cool? Ohhh, I'm in serious trouble, Haruhi_ laments without a trace of sadness.

Two sharp raps resound against the partition. _Not again and not now, please._

"Young Master?" Tachibana's muffled voice asks from the other side.

Kyoya pulls himself away still caught up in their kiss, releasing her with a lazy, but annoyed sough of air. He leans forward and rolls down the partition. "What is it?" he asks, impatience coloring his voice.

"It's not going to be possible to make your dinner reservation on time," his bodyguard replies, discreetly averting his eyes from the fact that the youngest Ootori's cheeks are blushed and his eyeglasses askew.

"Can we still make the theater?"

Hotta answers, "That shouldn't be a problem. If I can get us to the next intersection, I can bypass most of this. Maybe there's another place you boys could go?"

Haruhi is jolted back into their charade. _I'm a dude to them and kami-sama knows what else they're assuming, but so what? This is how it works for everybody. It doesn't matter if it's a girl-with-a-guy or a guy-with-a-guy or a girl-with-a-girl. Mom is right. Being physically close with someone you care about just feels good._

She inhales and exhales with some force to calm her jangled nerves and sits back to savor the feelings still fluxing through her body. She presses cool hands to her cheeks and watches Kyoya as he looks out the front windshield, which is wide and untinted.

He says, "I can see the Ootori Group tower from here which means we're just outside the governmental sector. Can you get us to Lotus?"

"Leave it to me, Kyoya-sama."

"Thank you."

Kyoya sits back without lifting the partition, his expression darker than she's ever seen it. In fact, all of his emotions tonight seem more intense than she's ever noticed them to be. _But why?_

Kyoya turns towards her. "My apologies, Haruhi. I wanted to take you to a particular sushi restaurant but-"

"Everything is fine," Haruhi says gently, placing a hand on his sleeve. "Any place you choose is going to be special somehow. And I really don't care where we go or what we do," _though I really want to see the ballet._

"I'll make it up to you, but if you're pleased with it, then so am I."

"I'm pleased being with you or haven't you figured that out yet?"

_He's so bright about so many things, yet so unaware at the same time. Just another surprise in a surprising day. And surreal - the way the sky burned blue after so many dreary days, the appearance of Mom in a dream (or was it a vision) and most surreal of all, Kyoya appearing in my doorway right after Mom and I were discussing him. And then there was this afternoon-and just now._

"Haruhi, are you alright?"

It's her turn to snap out of reverie. "I'm good. Just thinking how differently today has turned out from what I thought it would be when I woke up this morning."

"Better than expected, I hope."

"Not necessarily better. Just different."

"So I rank right up there with homework and laundry. Good to know where I stand." Bubbles of laughter escape her.

"Remember: 'arrogance invites ruin; humility receives benefits.'"

"Humility has never been a trait I find appealing but for clergy and the pious. I am neither."

"But isn't Pride considered a character flaw?"

"Consider this. You're attending Ouran because of pride: pride in yourself, in your work, in your future goals. And I would hardly be sitting beside you now if I couldn't feel pride in being allowed to be your escort this evening."

"I think that's known as a left-handed compliment."

"One of many I could tell you but, being averse to pride as you seem to be, I won't."

"And I think you just killed it," she grimaces.

"You of all people should understand and appreciate the benefits of being direct."

"Are you saying I'm blunt?"

"Just honest. Please continue to be so."

"In that case," she says and reaches up with both hands to set his glasses aright. Kyoya considers her, then casts a glance at Tachibana sitting quietly in the front seat, then back to Haruhi who winks at him with a smile.

"Remember what they say about people who live in glass houses, Kyoya."

"That they should consider draperies?" More bubbles.

"Are you making a joke?"

"I told you that humor is usually lost on me but, yes. That was a decidedly feeble attempt at diffusing the tension." He looks quite serious.

Her laughter continues quietly until it subsides. "Well, it worked. You know, sometimes I don't know what to make of you."

"Which is how I prefer things, generally speaking, though getting to know one another better is why we're here tonight, is it not? Without distractions from daily routine and," he pauses and puffs out a breath. "Annoying interference from others?" he finishes, emphasis on 'annoying.'

"You mean the Host Club."

"Host Club, family, friends, teachers, classmates." He waves a hand as if to indicate the rest of the known world. "Frankly, I'm surprised we know one another as well as we do given the fact that our lives are equally busy and during club, you're usually engrossed in some scheme or other concocted by Tamaki."

"Tamaki-senpai and yourself, no?"

"It varies. He tends to come up with ideas and I tend to keep them affordable."

"That may be true, but I doubt you'd say 'no' to something Tamaki-senpai really wanted even if it did exceed the budget."

An arched brow is his reaction, but before he can reply, the car makes a sharp turn out of lane, crossing the double yellow line to head in the opposite direction. The rear of the vehicle fishtails a bit, tossing Kyoya and Haruhi into one another. He steadies her, keeping his arms around her. She looks up at him, surprised to see him dead calm.

"Is what Hotta-san just did legal?" she whispers.

"He would know. He is an automobile maven." Kyoya's voice gets louder as he addresses his chauffeur without turning his attention from Haruhi. "Hotta-san, could you please tell Haruhi-san what you used to do as a career before becoming my driver?"

"Me? I used to race Formula 1's at the Fuji Speedway for the Big Three. Made myself a chunk of change in my twenties."

"What made you stop?" Haruhi asks, unable to restrain her nosiness.

"Nearly got cooked in a six-car mashup, but all I lost was an arm."

"I'm so sorry," she says with shocked sympathy.

"Ahhh, it's okay," Hotta consoles in his gravelly voice. "It could have been my life, but Ootori-sensei Sr. was an admirer. He actually paid for my prosthetic arm to be attached _and_ all the physical therapy that I needed at one of the best hospitals in Tokyo. I owe him a lot so when he asked if I'd like to work as Kyoya-sama's driver, I said yes. Of course, I'm paying him back little by little. It's only right."

"Sounds very Ootori to me," Haruhi says with a sly look at the brunet beside her. Kyoya merely lifts his chin assessing her reaction. _The more I learn about you, the more curious I am._

The car turns a corner, away from the congestion and onto less occupied roadway. Kyoya continues, "Tachibana has been my bodyguard since I was five."

"You needed a bodyguard at age five?" She looks at the back of the head of the man who is speaking to someone on his BlackBerry.

"There was once a kidnap attempt on my eldest brother when he was a child and ever since then, my parents have employed bodyguards to watch each of us, always. Isn't that right, Tachibana?"

The silver-haired agent disconnects and turns his head towards the center. "It is an honor to serve your family, young Master," comes the modulated reply spoken with educated diction.

"The gentleman you don't see but to whom Tachibana just spoke is Aijima. He runs general security on all locations I visit. This is why my itinerary must be so precise. It would be rude of me to be cavalier about things like that considering that their work is affected by my level of personal responsibility."

"Ah so," Haruhi responds and for the first time, gets why Kyoya is so often regimented and sometimes petulant.

"You have something that I will never have no matter how much money my family possesses.  
You have freedom, Haruhi. I do not and never will."

 _I'd be snappish, too, if I had three adults following me around all the time. What kind of childhood did you have, Kyoya? Did you even have a childhood?_ A pang of empathy resonates within herself.

The car slows, Hotta signals and they pull to the curb in front of a top hotel Haruhi has heard about but never seen from the inside. A uniformed doorman appears beside the vehicle, leaning over to pull open the passenger door which remains locked. Haruhi watches Tachibana leave the car and the doorman step back.

Her surprise must be written on her face. Kyoya explains, "My guards are the only ones allowed to permit entrance or egress unless I specify otherwise." _He really is treated like nobility._

"Ah so," she answers again, though she doesn't. _Seems a bit much for the 21st century, actually._

"Thank you, Hotta-san," Kyoya tells the chauffeur.

Tachibana is now holding the door open and they exit the car. Despite the fact that she's lived in Tokyo her entire life, Haruhi can't help but look up at the skyscraper that glows before her. A stark but elegant structure, she's certain she's the first person in her family tree to have reason to set foot in such an expensive and stylish setting.

Every person entering and exiting via the many doors that open onto the sidewalk are, without exception, dressed to the nines - the women coiffed, furred and bejeweled to perfection and the men decked out with as much panache as the ladies. Several couples observe them. One such duo, a middle-aged and stunning pair waiting for a limo or a taxi, takes note of them and the gentleman nods his head at Kyoya who returns the gesture with less deference. _That man is more than twice his age but Kyoya outranks him? What kind of world does he live in?_ _Certainly, not the one I do._

Haruhi is certain they're being judged by many eyes and, all at once, feels out of place. Kyoya grabs her arm and tucks it firmly through his own, guiding her to the entrance. As they cross the broad sidewalk, he leans over and speaks softly in her ear. "If you're going to be on my arm, you'll need to get used to being watched. Ootoris draw attention." She nods and he adds, "But no worries. You look beautiful." She looks up and him and casts a grateful smile.

"So do you," she says and they pass through the heavy glass door being held for them, smiling at one another.

Under his direction, they move through the immense lobby with purpose, Kyoya smoothly navigating the busy and populated space. Around them are both Japanese and other nationalities speaking in various languages as they discuss plans for the evening, greet friends or business associates and otherwise people-watch. To Haruhi it seems like a modern version of the ancient Imperial court where only the wealthiest and most influential families gathered to admire and be admired amidst burnished wood, sparkling glass, polished metals and plush broadloom.

As she takes it all in, a young woman with dark hair swept in a chic up-do decorated with a diamond-studded comb approaches. She's wearing an ermine shrug over a magenta slub silk pantsuit and heels Haruhi bets are designer made.

"Kyoya-kun, so nice to run into you here," she murmurs with familiarity. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Momiji. It's been a while. Are you here with your family or friends?"

"Family. We just had dinner and we're going to theater."

"As are we. May I present Fujioka Haruhi, a friend and fellow Host in the club I manage."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Haruhi says in her usual bright manner.

The pretty-but-haughty girl barely acknowledges the greeting, glancing at where Kyoya's hand rests on Haruhi's linked arm. _She seems older than a high school student so she must be a social acquaintance._

"Of course, Host Club," the dark-eyed Momiji fawns. "Such a sweet, high-school idea. If I were younger, I might visit, but my studies and practice take all of my time, as you know. I'm working with a new coach and he's absolutely merciless. I can barely squeeze in time with my stylist."

 _She sounds like some of our guests. That's for sure. Wait a minute…_ Haruhi recognizes the girl from the sports section of the newspaper as Suzuki Momiji, a rising seed tennis player.

"You're a diligent student and a fine athlete, Momiji," Kyoya compliments. "I'm sure your family is proud of you."

"And yours of you as well, though it must be difficult to work so hard without due recognition. I feel for you, Kyoya-kun," she pouts with a little moue. "Do let me know if there's ever anything I can do to help you feel better."

 _Is she for real? Sounds like a spoiled brat to me. Maybe a visit to Host Club could dissipate some of those raging hormones, too,_ though the thought of Momiji as one of Kyoya's guests elicits a distinct tinge of jealousy, surprising her with its potency. _Whoa._

"Your kindness knows no limits," Kyoya says, Host affect in place, though Haruhi hears the superficiality of his pleasantry, imagining how her statement must bother him. "Now if you'll excuse us."

"Enjoy the theater," Haruhi adds in a genial manner.

"Yes," the girl sneers. "I will."

Kyoya steers Haruhi away. From the expression on his face, Haruhi realizes that he is just as relieved as she that they have done so, causing her to feel unaccountably happy and worried at the same time. They take the elevator to the 37th floor and disembark. Haruhi has never been in a restaurant that sat any higher than the third floor of any structure and she inhales an audible breath at the sight that meets her eyes.

Lotus is large and always busy, serving as it does, a mixed crowd of international, national and local patrons. It boasts an excellent reputation for Cantonese cuisine with a Japanese flair and good service. But what makes the restaurant more than just another fine eatery are the views of the Tokyo Sky Tree, now lit with a million brilliant points as it reaches into the heavens that boasts its own bauble of light, a full moon gleaming over the sprawl of eastern Tokyo which can be seen beyond the glass walls that encircle three sides of the dining room.

"Perhaps this is a better choice after all," Kyoya says at her side. "I hadn't considered the panorama. May I take your coat?"

His mood has brightened. _Good._ Haruhi undoes the buttons and feels Kyoya assisting her in removing it from her shoulders. _I don't need the help, but I do like him fussing over me._ He heads to the coat check and hands her coat and scarf to the waiting attendant before doffing his own.

He pivots on his heel and approaches her, taking her in with an appreciative look and reminding Haruhi that there's basic justice to be meted out this evening with a simple bodice hugging garment as her weapon of choice. Still, she can't deny that his own appearance has her smiling. _And I thought the view outside the window was gorgeous._

Kyoya has always been fashion-conscious, but in unlikely ways. Tonight he wears a slim-cut black tweed suit, white oxford shirt with cuffs unbuttoned, and a teal blue merino wool v-neck sweater. _Classic._ His need to distance himself from the pack, however, has him sporting black-and-white perforated spectators and an outrageously loud pocket square casually tucked. Y _ou make it look so easy and you carry it so well. Show off._ But she admires his confidence.

As they approach the reservation desk, she tells him, "This is a much better look for you than the purple dress you wore when the Lobelia girls came to school."

"You think so?"

"I do, though I did like the fan."

"I think we still have that somewhere. I'll have to find it for you."

The maitre'd greets them and personally shows them to a table that isn't directly next to a window but which has a better view situated, as it is, on the higher floor of the bi-level restaurant. He pulls out the chair for Haruhi who seems surprised by his action, though she allows him to seat her. _Do rich people always get treated this way?_

Two enormous menus are given to them. Haruhi's love of sushi runs deep but her second favorite cuisine is Chinese. They listen politely as the maitre'd recites the specials of the day, then leaves. Haruhi opens the menu and her brow furrows.

"What's the matter?" Kyoya asks.

"There are no prices." He smiles.

"Not on yours. Only on mine."

She bristles a bit and stares at him across the white linen tablecloth, candles and decorative place settings. "Well, that seems silly, don't you think?"

"But you are my guest and I don't want you to worry about the cost of anything here. Please don't take it as anything other than that, Haruhi. However, if it truly bothers you, I'll have a regular menu brought to you."

"Yes, please," she replies, determined to keep their footing on an equal plain. She doesn't know how he gets the maitre'd back beside their table in less than a minute when brisk trade is occurring all around them.

"Ootori-sama, how can I be of service?" the portly man asks.

"Could you please bring a second full menu for my companion to peruse? And please remember that we have theater tickets."

"Of course." He leaves and returns swiftly, retrieving the first menu and handing Haruhi a duplicate of Kyoya's. He bows to her saying, "My apologies, young sir. There was no intention to offend and I hope you will not hold it against myself, the Lotus or the hotel."

"Of course not," Haruhi replies, more troubled by the man's deference than the un-priced menu. He departs and she opens the second menu. _Dad and I could eat for a week for what it costs for one dinner here._ But the items on the menu are tantalizing. _Abalone, prawns…Yamagata beef?_ Her mouth is already watering. _Forget dumplings. Well, maybe as a side dish._

"See something you like?" Kyoya asks, amusement in his voice.

"Everything," she asserts, deciding that such a meal must be worth its cost and she will savor every bite. That and the company of the young man sitting opposite who, in the soft glow of candlelight and ambient lighting looks good enough to eat himself. _And he's here with me. What are the odds of that?_ "I'm sorry I was difficult," she states.

"And I, about Momiji. She was rude and I should have called her on it."

"So we're even. Is she a friend of yours?"

"We were friends a while back, but no longer."

Haruhi doesn't pursue the topic, her instincts telling her to leave it alone. _I'm sure I'll find out at some point._

They make their selections and Haruhi allows Kyoya to place her order, despite considering ordering for herself as any modern woman would. _It just makes me feel…_ But she stops mid-thought. _How does he make me feel? We've been together almost half the day and I know he wants me. That's clear, but it's not just that. When I'm with him, I feel…what? Pretty? Feminine? Special? What is it?_

"Haruhi?"

"Yes?"

"You're drifting again. Are you worried about something? Perhaps what was on your mind earlier today?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you told me you'd been dreaming but that it wasn't a nightmare, yet you'd clearly been crying."

"Oh, that. Actually, I did have a lovely…dream, I guess you could call it. My mom visited me."

"Ah. Now I understand. Mothers are special, are they not?"

"Yes, of course. Are you close with your mom?"

Kyoya hesitates, then replies carefully, "My mother is an exceptional person, but there are… circumstances that are beyond one's control when one is younger that keeps relationship at a distance." She watches the way he opens up, like the flower on a snake gourd vine in summer, beautiful and rarely seen, before closing in on himself again. She knows better than to pursue that, too.

_There's so much I don't know about you and so much I feel I'll never know. I wonder how much Tamaki-senpai knows. I've already touched on two sensitive subjects. Might as well go three for three._

"Kyoya?"

"Yes?"

"Are you and Tamaki-senpai having an argument?"

He looks at her over the tops of his glasses before pushing them up. "If I didn't know that it was you sitting across the table from me, I'd swear that our fearless leader had occupied your seat and asked one of his many non-sequitur questions. What makes you ask that?"

He's only mildly annoyed and she's determined to learn something about the Shadow King that she doesn't know. "Well, your conversation with him on the phone earlier today and the way you kept trying to avoid talking about him. You even changed the music in the car. So I think you're in an argument with him." His placid expression remains neutral. "You are aren't you?"

Their dinner arrives just then - an assortment of items from which they can sample. It's less extensive than it would be otherwise because of their schedule, but Haruhi insists on tasting everything. Kyoya is more particular, having enjoyed the delicacies presented all his life. Among the fare she finds irresistible are the Swallow's Nest soup, prawns with mango mayonnaise, soy patties with pine nuts and, of course, rice dumplings filled with spicy beef.

"This is all so delicious," she exclaims as they dine. Their conversation covers topics like final exams and next year's courses to be taken, along with books they've both enjoyed and political causes they can both defend while avoiding the ones on which they disagree. _Not enough time for that._

Their meal winds down and Kyoya orders a teapot of Nantou White. He pulls his linen napkin from his lap, folds it loosely and lays it beside his plate. He places his chopsticks side by side on a diagonal across his plate, at ten and four as if the plate were a clock. And, just as she has all evening, Haruhi follows suit, committing to memory the proper etiquette she hasn't been taught but is learning on the fly. Their dishes are cleared at once and their tea arrives, hot and fragrant. They imbibe quietly for a time.

At last, Haruhi observes, "I know we serve instant coffee at club, but I never see you drink it. Don't you like coffee?"

"As a rule, no, and instant coffee, never. Nothing worthwhile in life is instant as most things that are done well take a certain amount of time and care to develop. A good tea is all that in a simple cup. And I prefer the white teas because of their purity, a rare quality in a world of degeneration. Such clarity of essence reminds one that it is possible, even if improbable, to keep one's integrity intact."

"I never realized, but you're a philosopher."

"There are a great many things about me which you do not know."

 _That's an understatement._ Haruhi steers their conversation back to club matters and tries once more to get to the bottom of the ongoing but mysterious dispute between two people who mean a great deal to her - one as a friend and one as something more and becoming more as time passes in his company.

"So, what exactly is the problem between you and senpai right now? I hope I don't have to yell at you like I do the twins when they argue. I thought you guys were best buddies."

"We are, but even best friends don't always agree." The cup he holds is set onto its saucer and pushed towards the center of the table. Once again, he manages to get the attention of the maitre'd who brings the bill. _Trying to short circuit answering me, eh? No can do._

"That's true, I suppose. And I can see Tamaki-senpai acting juvenile, but you? You always seem to take his bullcrap in stride. Ooops, I'm sorry."

"For what? It is bullcrap. He is the King of Bullcrap."

"Then how are you friends?"

"Long story short? Our fathers insisted. But, much to my surprise, we've actually become close, but he is still the King of Bullcrap, overly demanding and, well, I simply get tired of accommodating his impetuosity."

"So why do it? Seems to me that your family already has pretty high expectations of you. You shouldn't have to jump through hoops for your friends. And look - I know Tamaki is demanding, but he's also equally giving. Everything is over the top, but he isn't malicious or even always aware of how his actions affect others."

"And that, my dear Haruhi, is his blind spot in which every person who comes into contact with him sits at one time or another. It's exhausting keeping track of his meandering albeit fine mind."

"So then, he's done something regarding you that you think he should be more sensitive about but isn't." The look on Kyoya's face tells her what she needs to know. "It's true, isn't it?"

"That would be a fair appraisal of my issue with Suoh Tamaki right now. And no, I don't want to discuss it."

"Discuss what? I heard my name. What's going on?" They both recognize the voice. Haruhi looks over Kyoya's shoulder and smiles. Kyoya just sighs and closes his eyes.

The King of Bullcrap and Prince of the Ouran High School Host Club has discovered them.

End - Chapter 18 - Catch Me

* * *

Catch Me \- Demi Lovato [Haruhi-centric]

Before I fall too fast,  
Kiss me quick but make it last  
So I can see how badly this will hurt me  
When you say goodbye.

Keep it sweet. Keep it slow.  
Let the future pass and don't let go.  
But tonight I could fall too soon  
under this beautiful moonlight.

But you're so hypnotizing.  
You've got me laughing while I sing.  
You've got me smiling in my sleep.  
And I can see this unraveling.  
Your love is where I'm falling,  
But please don't catch me.

See this heart won't settle down,  
Like a child running scared from a clown.  
I'm terrified of what you do.  
My stomach screams just when I look at you.

Run far away so I can breathe  
Even though you're far from suffocating me.  
I can't set my hopes too high  
'Cause every hello ends with a goodbye.

But you're so hypnotizing.  
You've got me laughing while I sing.  
You've got me smiling in my sleep.  
And I can see this unraveling.  
Your love is where I'm falling,  
But please don't catch me.

So now you see why I'm scared.  
I can't open up my heart without a care.  
But here I go. It's what I feel.  
And for the first time in my life  
I know it's real.

But you're so hypnotizing.  
You've got me laughing while I sing.  
You've got me smiling in my sleep.  
And I can see this unraveling.  
Your love is where I'm falling,  
So please don't catch me.

If this is love, please don't break me.  
I'm giving up, so just catch me.


	19. Just a Man

Dinner with Suoh Yuzuru is always an event. The man's suave personality, coupled with his wealth, ensures that he never dines alone. Whether with a business colleague, a friend, a date or a family member, he is surrounded by people who want to be near him. It's been one of the secrets to his success his entire life and, it seems, his only offspring, young Tamaki, is much like him in that regard.

"Aren't you, Tamaki?" he asks the young man sitting in the passenger seat of the vintage Maybach sports coupe he's driving towards one of their favorite restaurants for dinner - Lotus. They don't have a reservation; they don't need one. They are ever welcome guests at not only Lotus, but at each one of the many fine dining establishments at the Roi Grand Hotel, the flagship of the many Suoh-owned establishments.

"What's that, Papa?" Tamaki turns from the window out of which he's been staring to address his sire who's been steadily speaking to him while he's been lost in his thoughts - very specific thoughts about what's been going on in his life for the last few weeks.

Yuzuru reiterates, "I said that you're very much like me in personality, though your looks favor your lovely mother."

"I suppose so. You're correct that she is a lovely person, though. I hope she's doing well. Do you know if she is, father?" _Tu me manques, Maman. {I miss you, Mom}_

Yuzuru falters at the question. Anne-Sophie's health is something he keeps tabs on, but he doesn't think it wise to keep her memory fresh in the younger Suoh's mind, considering he may never see her again. Why bring up painful emotions?

"Now, now. If your mother's health had taken a negative turn, I would certainly know and I haven't heard anything of that nature."

"You would tell me if that happened, right? Please, don't ever keep that from me," the blond says, somewhat agitated and unsatisfied with his father's non-answer.

"Of course, Son."

Tamaki sighs with relief. _I wish I could talk to Kyoya, but he's probably on his date with Haruhi by now. I can't imagine them dating though Haruhi did go out with Hikaru and Kaoru, once each. Of course, that went nowhere._ He brightens a bit. _Maybe her date with Kyoya won't go so well, either, and they'll realize that they're not suited for each other. Then Kyoya will notice that I'm the one who's always been there for him ever since we met. So-o, when this whole Haruhi-Kyoya thing blows over, Kyoya will see that he and I are meant to be and Haruhi and I won't be rivals anymore. Everything will be back to normal._ He pauses. _Normal, eh? What does that even mean?_

If there was a corner he could crouch in, he'd be there. As there isn't, he slides down into the contoured seat with pursed lips and furrowed brow, arms crossed over his chest.

"Is everything alright with you?" Yuzuru queries, following a quick glance at his son.

Lips still pursed, the blond responds, "I'm fine."

"Then why are you scrunching up your face that way? Do that often enough and it'll stay like that."

Tamaki is startled out of his funk at the thought of anything interfering with his looks. He sits up straight again and runs a hand through his hair.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" the elder Suoh continues. He doesn't see his son nearly as often as he should, but his life is complicated as he navigates work, family and other responsibilities.

"Nothing."

"Tamaki, I know we're still learning about one another, but I can tell when something is bothering you."

"How's that?"

"Parental intuition? Your reaction about your mother? Your pouting like a child? Anyone could see you're troubled about something."

"It's nothing I can't handle." Tamaki keeps his eyes dead ahead.

"I know it's not your studies, so it must be about your friends - perhaps that club you run?"

"In a way." Tamaki briefly toys with the idea of broaching his latest insight into himself, then reconsiders.

"How so?"

_You'll know eventually, but I can't say anything. Not until I know where I stand with Kyoya. And maybe not even then. I hate keeping secrets, but this one will have to stay kept for awhile._

"It's nothing. Really, Papa. I just have some things on my mind." _Like wondering what Kyoya and Haruhi are doing right now._

"You know you can tell me anything." Yuzuru's interest in Tamaki has always been sincere. He loves the boy.

"I know. I just want to see if I can work things out on my own." _Like Kyoya suggested. I know he's irritated with me today and I don't know why. He was fine on Friday and his usual self on Saturday. But today… I just need to talk to him about what happened between us and let him know that I'm not going to make trouble. If he and Haruhi do work out, I won't stand in their way. I just don't know if I can do that._

"Commendable. You're nearly eighteen and should be more independent. Have you thought about what you might do this summer? I was thinking you could intern at Suoh Enterprises. Or maybe at the workplace of one of your friends' parents. The Hitachiin? The Ootori? I'm sure Ootori Kyoya will be doing exactly that. He's a sharp young man and understands his future role well. It's time for you to start viewing life more seriously, too."

"Would you mind terribly if we talked about this another time?"

"Very well. Just remember, I'm here and I care."

Tamaki nods and stares out the window once more.

_Kyoya. Maybe Papa is right. I should be thinking of my future and what possible future could Kyoya and I have together? Now, Haruhi and Kyoya? But that's not how it should go._

He envisions his two friends embracing and quickly dispels the thought. _Haruhi should remain pure and untouched until she's married, just like Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai said. And if she falls for anyone, it should be me, though that wouldn't work out very well now, would it? But I am the Princely type, not Kyoya. Doesn't make sense. Well yeah, it does; but who'd have pegged Haruhi as liking the Cool type? And she did say 'yes' to him asking her out which means… Wait. Just how and when did that happen, anyway? Ootori...argh. Doesn't matter. She said 'yes.'_

The superintendent of Ouran's school board pulls into the city garage attached to the hotel. He slides into a choice spot without question. The valet driver greets them with great respect as he opens the door for the elder Suoh. Tamaki lets himself out of the passenger side and doffs his vintage Yomiori baseball jacket, trading it for a fitted black wool blazer worn over an open-necked white dress shirt and indigo jeans. He seals the Maybach's door gently, just as his father requires.

They step onto the narrow concrete walkway that wends upwards to street level but instead of heading there, they go to a plain blue door with a keypad. Yuzuru decodes the latch and they pass within. The tasteful interior passage snakes around a corner or two before a tiny elevator appears beside a flight of stairs. Tamaki bounds up the steps like a small child in a non-race with an indulgent parent. At the top, he waits for his father who arrives shortly and they proceed past the fire door into an Employees Only area behind the front desk of the Roi Grand Hotel.

"Good evening, Suoh-sama and son," the Chief Hotelier greets them with a deferential bow. "Lotus is expecting you."

"Fine, fine," Yuzuru says in a cheerful voice. "And how are you this evening, Setsuko-san? That's a lovely necklace you're wearing this evening."

"Thank you and I'm doing well. Your interest is an honor."

"Business is good, I may assume?"

"Very good, indeed. Kaicho Suoh was here only the other day and was not displeased."

"That's nearly a compliment." Yuzuru's surprise is sincere.

"We are grateful for her continued guidance."

"I'll be sure to tell her so. We'll be going now."

"Have an excellent dinner, Suoh-sama and son. Please let me know if there is anything that you require during your visit."

"I certainly will," Yuzuru says with a sly wink at the middle-aged woman who, while attractive, is happily married with three children. No matter to Suoh Yuzuru whose appreciation of womankind remains in full force at all times. Watanabe Setsuko, accustomed to the man's flirtatious ways, maintains her professional persona as a Suoh corporate manager, but smiles after the duo leaves her sight.

Father and son leave the office for the busy lobby. Tamaki has done nothing but observe, forcing himself to pay attention to how his father behaves in business-related circumstances.

' _It's an important part of being a gentleman to behave correctly, especially when dealing with those above or below you in status, young Master.' Shima-san's words come to mind. 'One must be neither too arrogant nor too humble.' Father is so polished in dealing with people, yet so friendly. Grandmother would probably disapprove of the friendly part, but I saw that twinkle in Watanabe-san's eye. She liked it when father teased her. I wish Grandmother could loosen up just a little and not be displeased with me. I don't need compliments. Just her acceptance would be fine._

They enter the sophisticated atmosphere of Lotus and the Restaurant Manager greets them, seating them personally at a particular table situated at a particular angle beside a particular window because it's where Tamaki once said he liked the view and Yuzuru remembers that. They place their usual order, each quietly enjoying the view of the city below as they wait for their meals. Such meditative silence is atypical for the loquacious young man seated on the diagonal from him, as Yuzuru prefers, in order to keep their conversations private. Tonight, however, something is clearly on Tamaki's mind.

 _Moonlight is so romantic and our guests will love it. We can have a moonlit star party with some sort of star-related activity as amusement. Maybe zodiac cosplay, though there are twelve signs and only seven of us so that won't work, unless we each take two signs and I play the Royal Astrologer. I have to ask Kyoya._ He pulls out his phone and begins to search.

"Tamaki," Yuzuru gently chides. Tamaki looks up, phone in hand.

"I'm sorry, but I just had a wonderful idea for the Host Club and wanted to let Kyoya know."

"It can't wait until tomorrow? We're together. Let's just talk, shall we?"

"Very well." The phone is stowed with some disappointment.

They chat about how Tamaki's studies are progressing and what Yuzuru's plans are for the renovation of one of their business-class hotels in a less prestigious part of Tokyo. Tamaki listens as attentively as he can, but he finds himself losing focus more than once. Their entrees completed, Yuzuru orders dessert hoping that sweets will cheer up the melancholy teen.

"Tama-chan, do you remember when you first got Kuma-bear?" The blond's smile returns somewhat, his eyes questioning.

"You gave him to me."

"Do you remember that there were originally three bears?" Tamaki's brow wrinkles as he thinks and then his smile is genuine.

"Now that you mention it, yes. One was black, I think, and the other was pink."

"Do you also remember the story behind them?"

"Goldilocks, of course."

"Of course. Your mother wanted you to be tri-lingual so she gave you books in Japanese, French and English equally. She once told me that you loved the British story of Goldilocks, though I can't imagine why." Yuzuru smiles as he looks at his son's own golden locks and back into the violet eyes, so like his mother's. "So, the next time I came to visit you, I brought you three stuffed bears."

"I remember that, and the books, hundreds of them it seemed." _Merci, maman. {Thanks, mom}_ "It was Papa Bear...Mama Bear...and Kuma-bear?" Tamaki's befuddled expression makes Yuzuru smile.

"You hated calling him Baby Bear so you re-named him. Your mother said he was your constant companion after that and I know you still have him, somewhere."

"Of course. Kuma-bear is my oldest friend. One doesn't ignore one's friends." _Unless your name is Ootori._

"One shouldn't ignore anyone about whom they care."

"I know that. That's why I created the Host Club. Everyone needs attention and that's what we provide."

"It's still all very innocent, isn't it? I wouldn't want you or myself to be seen as condoning something sordid."

"Quite above-board." _Why are you asking?_

"You know, when you began your club as a 1st-year, I didn't think it would last; but here you are, finishing your second year with Host Club still thriving."

"It's pretty amazing, isn't it? I have to say that some credit goes to Kyoya, as our director. Of course," Tamaki brags with a toss of his head, "I bring in the most guests."

"We Suoh do seem to have a way with the ladies, don't we?" Yuzuru chuckles.

"So I noticed."

"Hmmm? Oh, you mean with Watanabe-san. That's just harmless flirting, Son. Done respectfully, it's just another way to charm people, though how you charm women is different than how you charm men.

"Ah so." _I hadn't thought of that._

"Naturally. Women prefer to be admired for their appearance, men for their accomplishments." Tamaki looks uncertain, so Yuzuru continues. "That doesn't make one exclusive of the other. It's just been my experience that if you ask a woman if they would rather be told that they're beautiful or that they're accomplished, they'll say 'beautiful' more often than not. And admiring someone's qualities is appreciated by both."

Tamaki digests these ideas as dessert is served _. Haruhi isn't like that at all and I don't remember Maman ever saying anything like that, either._ He sighs _. And maman is certainly beautiful. And Haruhi, though she's more cute than beautiful. And, of course, Kyoya. All the hosts are. Oh, I can't help it. I'm affected by beautiful things._

"Is it wrong to focus on beauty, Papa?"

"Not wrong, Tamaki, as long you realize that beauty is, as the proverb states, in the eye of the beholder. It also comes in many forms. Think of your piano music. Breathtakingly beautiful. Or the paintings Kyoya-kun exhibits at school from time to time. He has a talent to create beauty that way. Even a person's nature can be beautiful."

"Like Maman."

"Exactly."

"She's beautiful, inside and out."

"I know you miss her, Son, but it's for the best. I'm just sorry that I wasn't always there for you more when you were growing up. Still, there's no point in having regrets about things you can't change. I've made mistakes, but we all do. How you handle yourself moving forward is what determines your character and your future."

Yuzuru's sudden seriousness makes Tamaki sit up and pay attention. He leans in about to ask his father more about that when someone says, "Chairman Suoh?"

Yuzuru looks from his son to the couple approaching their table. They are the Abes, parents of one of Ouran's students and a distant relation to Japan's Prime Minister. Yuzuru greets them warmly and introduces Tamaki. The pair's first-born son is a 2nd-year and they're seeking advice on the merit of early graduation in Japan in order to allow the beginning of university in the U.S. come January.

"Well," Yuzuru begins. "That's a complex question and I must ask you several things before I answer. Would you care to join my son and myself for dessert?" They decline, but Yuzuru insists. "You must try the almond pudding and the rose-flavored sponge cake is unique in all of Japan." Tamaki smiles at the couple and nods his agreement, despite being disappointed at having his personal time with his father interrupted. Still, and regardless of the circumstance of the meeting, Yuzuru always makes time for the parents of Ouran's students. Always. Tamaki knows this well.

"Papa, if you and the Abe would excuse me for a bit, I really would like to stretch my legs. Please enjoy your chat."

Yuzuru comprehends that Tamaki is not interested in the topic at hand, though he should be. "Very well, Son. If that's your preference." The blond stands, bows to the couple and heads away from the table without looking back.

 _It isn't as easy as some think being the son of the Chairman. Being perfect in academics, appearance and personal charm isn't impossible, but it does require maintenance and sharing one's parent with many people._ As he walks, he continues to take in the view beyond. Tokyo is a great metropolis, but he misses Paris. What he hasn't told anyone is that he is thinking about college, especially the Sorbonne. Or Ouran. Or Stanford in the US. _College just seems so far away and yet it's almost here. No, I won't think about that yet._

He climbs the four wide, carpeted steps that lead to the second level to continue his circuit around the restaurant. _It was fun hearing Father talk about Kuma-bear. How could I not remember naming him?_ That's when he hears a familiar voice saying, "That would be a fair appraisal of my issue with Suoh Tamaki right now. And no, I don't want to discuss it. At all."

A slow turn of his head to the left reveals a small table inhabited by two well-dressed adolescents dining together. He recognizes Kyoya's three-quarter profile, the brunet's attention fully focused on a boy sitting across from him. _What's going on now? Where's Haruhi? Is Kyoya out with a...younger boy?_ A mixture of happiness, confusion and dread fills him as he approaches, trying to remain calm.

End - Chapter 19 - Just a Man

* * *

Just a Man \- The Classic Crime [Yuzuru-centric]

Dripping wet with practiced sincerity.  
Cute slogans for tangible mysteries.  
You reduce your god to a TV commercial  
(Pruned to profit your ego).  
"Buy what I sell", you scream.  
(Advertise, advertise) "Purchase my lifestyle."

I once held the key,  
But now I have nothing.  
And you are so naive.  
I'm sorry for leading you along.  
I'm just a man, I'm just a man, I'm just a man.

Wake me up and wipe the cliché from my eyes.  
It's killing me when all I see is hypocrisy and lies.  
I know that my faults bring me down. It's a constant battle.  
That's why I have to be honest with you now.  
I'm not your saint. I'm not your savior.

I once held the key,  
But now I have nothing.  
And you were so naive.  
I'm sorry for leading you along.  
I'm just a man, I'm just a man, I'm just a man.

I once held the key to everything you ever dreamed of.  
Now I have nothing. I'm sorry for leading you along.  
I'm just a man, I'm just a man, I'm just a man.

Just a man.

Just a man.


	20. Best Kept Secret

It takes all his willpower to keep a smile on his face, but he dare not embarrass his father here. Meanwhile, his fists are clutched by his sides, imaginary sweat drops beading his forehead as he approaches Kyoya and Haruhi's table. "Discuss what? I heard my name. What's going on?"

Haruhi looks up and Tamaki stops dead in his tracks, his emotions clouding his recognition skills. He turns to his best friend to claim with indignance, "Kyoya - how can you be so cavalier with your affections? Have you no shame? Dragging this-" he says pointing to without looking at Haruhi. "This poor boy who clearly has no idea who he's dealing with. You are not the gentleman I thought you were."

"Ummm, Tamaki-senpai? What are you doing here and what are you talking about?" she says.

His vision may be less than perceptive, but his hearing is fine. His head turns in increments until he's looking at the "boy" he's known for the last ten months as Fujioka Haruhi. Only, she's made-over as he's never seen her, but still his very own Haruhi - his daughter, his friend, his rival.

"Ha- ru- hi?" His hand drops as his body slumps into itself, hysteria dropping from off the chart to manageable. "You look…different."

"You can blame Kaoru and Hikaru. Did you put them up to this? It's more than I'd have done, but s'ok. Are you having dinner here?" Her pleasure at seeing him, so genuine and so unaware of underlying dynamics, makes him pause to breathe.

 _She thinks I'm helping Kyoya._ He turns his head back to regard the brunet. Kyoya's expression is unreadable, though Tamaki catches the stiffening line of his back as he sits straighter in his chair and the tic of his jaw from clenched teeth. Old habits die hard and Kyoya's early warning signs of a blow-up are clear. Still, like a moth drawn to the flame, he can't resist.

He recovers himself, ignoring Kyoya to turn back to the wide-eyed first-year, lifting her hand from where it rests on the table into both of his. He bends down and meets her eyes, saying "Haruhi, Daddy thinks you look positively radiant. I didn't recognize you. How is it that you and Mommy are here together?"

"Thank you, I guess. I thought everyone knew Kyoya and I were going out tonight. The twins did."

He drops one of his hands to press it to his breast. "Oh, I did. We are a family and should keep one another close. Isn't that right, Mommy dearest?" Tamaki gazes fondly at the bespectacled brunet who whose eyes are beginning to narrow. "I was just wondering how it is that you ended up at Lotus."

"Traffic," Kyoya responds through tight lips. He doesn't embellish.

"Kyo-ya," Tamaki says looking down at his friend who lifts his chin and tips his head to one side to regard the blond. "You should have told me you were coming here. I could have gotten you the best table in the house."

"Thank you, Tamaki, but we're fine." The brunet casts a deliberate glance towards the lower level. "You must be here with your father. Perhaps we should say hello before we leave, Haruhi." He pushes back in his chair just a bit, as if to stand.

 _Trying to get rid of me? I don't think so, Kyo._ Tamaki moves until he's standing just behind the brunet, placing his hands on Kyoya's shoulders, causing the brunet to jump just a little. "He's talking to parents right now. You know, Haruhi, this _is_ one of the best restaurants and one of the best hotels in the city. We've been here numerous times, haven't we, Kyoya?" _I'm_ _not leaving until I know what your next stop is going to be._

"We've eaten here, that's true." The Shadow King's cold precision forestalls any planned misdirection.

Haruhi says, "The food _is_ amazing here, senpai. I'd forgotten that your family owns this hotel. The rooms must be fantastic and I'm sure the penthouse suite is extraordinary."

"I can see if it's available for viewing. I'm sure my father won't mind if it is." Haruhi's face lights up at the idea.

"Haruhi," Kyoya pipes up. "We must be mindful of time."

"Oh, that's right. We have tickets for the ballet. I'm sure you guys have gone many times, but I've only been once. It was beautiful. I remember that."

"Ahh, the ballet," Tamaki begins in a grandiose tone, removing his hands from Kyoya and taking a seat with them as Kyoya seethes at the seemingly clueless blond who crosses his legs and begins gesturing dramatically as he warms to the subject.

"First established in the Italian courts of the Renaissance, but truly brought into its own in France as the corp de ballet under Catherine de Medici and expanded under King Louis XIV, who was an excellent dancer himself. Did you know that his title as The Sun King came from a role he danced at the age of 14? But it did. From there, it grew to become a great art form adopted by many great countries - France, of course, but also Italy, Hungary, Denmark, Russia, even Argentina and the United States. But, at heart, it will always be French."

"Wow, senpai. How do you know so much about it?"

At the question, the blond's manner grows subdued, his eyes wistful. "My mother was a ballerina. I remember attending performances and watching her as a child. Then, of course, she became ill and had to retire early. She was so beautiful when she danced. Like an angel."

"She must miss performing. Do you attend with her now?"

"Uh-no. I live with Papa now." Tamaki grows silent. _Haruhi doesn't know I'm illegitimate or my situation. How could she?_ His expression grows pensive. Haruhi looks at Kyoya, who is now watching his friend with concern.

"Oh," Haruhi says, then, "It's rather nice sitting here with just the two of you. I don't think we've ever done this. It's usually everyone all together, so this is kind of special. How much time do we have before the ballet begins?"

Kyoya glances at his watch. "We should be seated by 7:50, which leaves us thirty minutes."

"Sounds nice," Tamaki says. _The Suoh family has season tickets for the ballet._

"And," Kyoya adds, "traffic can be difficult."

"Can't Hotta-san drop us off before he parks the car?" she asks.

"Of course he can," Tamaki replies, somewhat mollified after speaking about his mother. "We do that all the time, don't we Kyoya? Whenever we go out."

"Yes, but earlier this evening-"

"Traffic is fine now," Tamaki says, watching Kyoya open his mouth, then close it again, soughing out a breath through his nose. "And Hotta-san is an excellent driver. In fact," he says turning back to Haruhi and propping his chin with his fist, elbow on the table, unperturbed by his violation of table etiquette. "He takes Kyoya and me for a drive every Friday and I never worry about a thing when he's at the wheel."

"Tamaki," Kyoya says so low that no one but the blond can hear and Haruhi, only if she's paying close attention, which she is.

_I know I'm playing with fire, but really Kyoya? Don't you think you owe me more than to be brushed off three times in the same day?_

"I didn't know that," Haruhi says. "But it makes sense: end of the week, best friends. Of course, you need to spend time together without school or family stuff getting in the way."

In an overly unconcerned manner, Kyoya explains _,_ "Just a few beers to unwind and then home we go. Nothing more than that." He signals their server for the bill.

"Really?" Tamaki says in a small voice, lower lip jutting a wee bit as he sits back in his chair, his eyes moistening. _Damn you, Kyoya. Why are you being such a prick?_

"Kyoya," Haruhi admonishes. "How can you say that? Making time for friends is important. You can't just blow them off like it's no big deal."

Tamaki soft intake of breath is masked by his hand, his face growing pink, then red and finally turning scarlet. Haruhi looks confused, Tamaki looks down and Kyoya's stony stare pierces through the candlelight glinting off his eyeglasses.

 _Does she know? There's no way. But I know you, Kyoya. You'd like to pretend that the other night never happened, but it did. I know what you look like when..you know._ As he thinks the words, recalled images play perforce in his mind and, unawares, his hand on the table shifts towards the brunet. Kyoya blinks twice in rapid succession, looks down at the hand and away. _But then there's Haruhi. She looks so pretty tonight and she seems so happy. I can't possibly hurt her. And I won't hurt Kyoya even if he is being mean. Alright, then. I won't interfere, but I'm not going to make it easy for them, either._

In typical Suoh fashion, he brightens his expression and turns towards Haruhi who is focused on them both, eyes only moving from one to the other, taking in every nuance of non-verbal communication playing out before her eyes.

"Know what I think?" Tamaki says in cheery voice. "I think that we should do exactly what you suggested, Haruhi. For real. Your birthday is next weekend and I know- I know- You said no fuss but surely three friends can have dinner together, can't they?"

"That might not be the best course of action right now," Kyoya says, glancing at Haruhi's scrutinizing gaze before turning to the blond. "It may be that Haruhi has other plans for her birthday."

"Nope," Haruhi says blithely. "I told you. My birthday is not a big deal." Her attitude turns hesitant. "And while having dinner with both of you sounds fun, I'm not so sure anymore."

"What do you mean?" Tamaki asks, dismayed that she isn't thrilled with the suggestion.

"Look," she says carefully. "I've seen how the twins fight and how Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai fight. But is this how you guys usually fight? 'Cause I've never seen you act like this around one another and I'm getting the feeling that this is something more than just a casual difference of opinion."

"Tamaki and I understand one another. Don't we, Tamaki?" The brunet drops his eyes as he signs the bill to be added to his family's account.

"Not always, but we've gotten better at it," Tamaki replies in a straight-forward manner, then waits until Kyoya and he are once more eye-to-eye. "Though," he adds, "I think I understand more than you're willing to admit, Kyoya." _I am so pushing it, but facts are facts._

The Cool Host adjusts his glasses and earns his title. "I'm sure I don't know to what you are referring, but there isn't time to go into it right now." With even crisper diction he add, "Perhaps, another time." He stands, as does Tamaki.

"Wait a minute," Haruhi says, still seated, her face and tone of voice reflecting her unwillingness to leave things unsettled. They turn to her simultaneously.

"Shall we go?" Kyoya asks.

"On one condition," she says firmly, head deliberately turning to look from one young man to the other.

"Haruhi, listen-" Tamaki begins.

"No, you listen to me, the _two_ of you." She stands and presses her fists on her hips. "Nothing is more precious than family except friends and you've been friends - best of friends - for some time. It's obvious something is wrong between you and I can't just stand by and let you remain angry with one another over - what, I don't know. But whatever it is, you better straighten things out. Promise me you will or I'm not moving until you do."

Violet eyes meet grey, emotion high between the two young men. Not one of them is aware that the diners around them are now watching, as is Suoh Yuzuru standing at the bottom of the steps.

"Fine," says Kyoya.  
"Agreed," says Tamaki.

Kyoya begins to move past Tamaki, then stops. "We'll talk," he says in a quiet, level voice. Tamaki just nods, arms limp by his sides, head down. _Mommy and Daughter are upset with Daddy._

Haruhi stands up and moves until she's directly in front of the blond and looking into Tamaki's worried eyes. "Senpai," she says in a gentle voice that only he can hear. "I'm not angry with you."

"Really?"

"Really. I just hate it when people argue. You know you can talk to me about it. I won't take sides, but I'll listen."

"That might not be possible this time."

Haruhi's brow wrinkles as she scans his serious face. "Then remember why you're friends in the first place. That's usually a good place to start."

"I know," he says. "Enjoy the ballet," he adds with a forced smile. "Think of me."

He doesn't watch them leave, remaining in place, staring at the flame that flickers from within the crystal flower that rests on the table.

"Are you alright, son?" Yuzuru's voice is at his side.

Tamaki meets his father's eyes, filled with concern and warmth. "I will be," he says. "Can we go?"

"Yes."

As they head down the steps, Tamaki asks, "Papa, would you want to go the ballet tonight?"

"I usually attend kabuki with your Grandmother, but I haven't been to the ballet in ages. I hadn't considered that you might like to go."

"I think it would be nice to do that, together. Besides, a gentleman should cultivate an appreciation for such things, don't you think?"

"Quite right, Son. But if we're going to make an eight o'clock curtain, we need to leave right now."

Father and son take the elevator back to the lobby. As they make their way through the throng, Yuzuru quietly reaches up and ruffles the hair at the back of his son's head. It's an atypical move in touch-conscious Japan, but it's exactly what Tamaki needs, manners be damned.

Suoh Yuzuru may be full-blooded Japanese, but he's never been one to live his life by the book. He's paid a price; but the boy walking with him has brought him nothing but joy, so he's willing to step outside the box every once and awhile. He doesn't know what's bothering Tamaki, but he has an inkling. He'll be ready to listen and accept whatever it may be, whenever his only child is ready to share. Tonight they will view the ballet together. He hadn't suggested earlier it for fear of opening old wounds, but it's the least he can do for his beloved, Anne-Sophie.

The very least.

End - Chapter 20 - Best-Kept Secret

* * *

Best Kept Secret \- Skillet [Tamaki-centric]

Shrouded in proof, you're the mystery.  
You're the truth that lives within the world we see.  
You're the hand that holds destiny  
And I can't pretend I don't know  
And I can't leave it alone (yeah, yeah).

You're the best kept secret in my generation.  
The best kept secret of all time.  
You're the best kept secret in my generation  
And I found you out.

You're the hope over the centuries.  
You're the cosmic force that rules the galaxies.  
You're the evidence that demands our belief  
And I can't live for myself  
I can't keep this all to myself (yeah, yeah).

You're the best kept secret in my generation.  
The best kept secret of all time.  
You're the best kept secret in my generation  
And I found you out.

Let it out. (4x) Yeah.

And I can't pretend I don't know  
And I can't leave it alone (yeah, yeah).

You're the best kept secret in my generation.  
The best kept secret of all time.  
You're the best kept secret in my generation  
And I found you out.


	21. Crawling

Haruhi and Kyoya enter the elevator heading to the Roi Grand's lobby and, as if from nowhere, Tachibana is there. _That is definitely weird,_ Haruhi thinks. _I don't think I could ever get used to living in a bubble, though they say if you experience something long enough, it becomes normal to you._

The limo is waiting. As they pull away, Haruhi looks backwards over Kyoya's shoulder to watch the receding marquis above the hotel. As she does, what seems to be a familiar face catches her momentary attention as it flashes between the faces of those milling about the front of the building. As quickly as the image registers on her brain, it disappears. Her brow wrinkles.

_Dad?_

"Kyoya," she begins, turning back to her date who seems engrossed in thoughts of his own.

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind if I make a call?"

"Everything alright?"

"I hope so." She pulls her phone from her wristlet and dials home.

"Haruhi?" Ryoji answers, anxiety barely disguised. "Where are you? I'll come for you at once."

"I'm fine, Dad," she reassures. "Just seeing how _you're_ doing."

"Well, aren't you adorable checking on me. Whatever for?"

"You're home, aren't you?"

"Where else would I be?" _He sounds innocent enough._

"So you won't mind going into my bedroom and telling me what's laying on my bed?"

"I know exactly what's there, my darling. The empty garment bags from House of Hitachiin, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." _Of course, he'd know that. I'm a lousy detective. But how could he answer the phone without being there?_

"Are you having a nice time? Is Kyoya behaving?" Ryoji asks.

"Dad-"

"I know, I know. Stop prying. I just can't help it."

" _We_ are fine. We had dinner at the Roi Grand Hotel and are heading to the National Theater." Kyoya gestures for her to hand over the phone.

"Ryoji-san? It's Kyoya. Everything is fine. Haruhi will be home by eleven barring unforeseen circumstances."

"And just what is that supposed to mean? What unforeseen circumstances do you foresee? Hmmmmmm?"

"We did run into quite a bit of traffic earlier this evening though it seems clear now. The roads are getting icy and I don't want my driver to take unnecessary risks. If there's any delay, I'll let you know. In the meanwhile, did you get the envelope I had delivered to your apartment?"

Haruhi's face registers surprise, but Kyoya puts up his hand.

"An envelope? Tonight?"

"I had it sent by messenger to be hand-delivered."

"Uhhh - well, you see… I decided to take a walk so I'm not exactly at home right now. Tell Haruhi I'll be home later tonight and not to wait up, would you?"

"I understand completely, sir. Your daughter is safe with me."

"I doubt it, but I'm holding you to that, Ootori."

"I'm returning the phone to Haruhi."

"Dad? I'll see you later, okay? I'm hanging up now." Haruhi disconnects and sighs.

"Over-protective much?" Kyoya questions with an amused smile.

"To the Nth degree. What did you mean about sending an envelope?"

"There's no such thing. It's just my way of learning if your father is actually at home. That is what you were trying to ascertain, isn't it? "

"Yes, but I don't think I have the necessary skills for police work. You, on the other hand…"

"Never in a million years. My father would like me to choose Law or Medicine so I can look out for the interests of my brothers, my sister and their families."

"And what do _you_ want to do?"

"I don't object to studying the Law."

"Kyoya, I asked you what you would like, not what you'd agree to do for your family's sake."

He considers her. "There are only two people in the world who have ever asked me that specific question with heartfelt interest. You make the third."

"Let me guess one. Tamaki-senpai?"

"Yes, and my mother."

"What have you told them?"

He pauses for a few moments, as if he's about to reveal some dastardly secret. Finally, he says, "Architecture."

"Really?" Her eyes widen and she smiles, genuinely delighted with his answer. _That's a surprise._

"I enjoy design and the potential to create something substantial that can last for decades, if not centuries." A subtle smile overtakes him as he shares his passion. "Have you ever really studied the Acropolis or the Parthenon? It isn't just the engineering that's genius, but the vision of design within the construct of human ability and available materials. There's genius in the work of Frank Lloyd Wright or I.M. Pei. Their legacy is monumental not just to function and design, but to civilization as a whole. Their vision influenced the way people live their lives on a daily basis. That's power."

"I can see you're passionate about it. And it makes sense. Your intelligence, attention to detail, your precision with numbers and budgets, despite Tamaki. Even our cosplay is carefully considered. But isn't Architecture artistic?"

"Are you suggesting that I'm not?"

"I guess I don't really know."

"Ask me about it again some time."

"I will." She's even more curious than ever about the enigmatic young man who's captured her attention and is slowly winning her heart.

"And yet, in spite of my wishes, it's uncertain that I'll be allowed to pursue such a career."

"But why? Wouldn't your father approve?"

"It's not a matter of approving or disapproving. It's about what he thinks is best for the Ootori family."

"Without considering your feelings?"

"Never has, never will."

"I can't imagine Dad telling me what to do with my life."

"Though he worries about it."

"Remember what I said about over-protective? I'm pretty sure he's sprouted at least three gray hairs tonight alone."

"You do realize that had you not hidden your gender from the outset at Ouran that your father would, no doubt, be completely gray by now."

She chuckles. _Wait a minute._ "You don't think he's following us, do you?"

"I suspect as much, but I doubt he'll show his face."

"He better not," she says firmly. Kyoya nods, grasping her hand within his and sitting back.

The trip from hotel to theater isn't long and they ride in comfortable silence, holding onto one another's warmth and leaning into one another's shoulders. Each is thinking about the people in their lives that care - sometimes too much - but care nonetheless.

_It must be the full moon. I can understand Dad being put off balance by my heading out with Kyoya, but even Tamaki-senpai was acting odd._ _I suppose I shouldn't complain. But why was Kyoya so irritated with him and so jumpy, too? It's takes a lot to rattle the Shadow King but he was, especially when senpai put his hands on him. He looked…guilty. He did say that Tamaki-senpai was being insensitive, but what about?_

She thinks back to their words:

… _He takes Kyoya and me for a drive every Friday_  
Just a few beers. Nothing more than that.  
Tamaki and I understand one another.  
I think I understand more than you're willing to admit, Kyoya…

Her analytic mind sifts through the evidence, like a future case for the future attorney. _The issue is there, in that drive they take. Is it drinking or some other substance problem?_ The thought troubles her. She's read enough about co-dependency to know that children of alcoholics, like herself, often re-create family dynamics in their own relationships. _Dad's been sober for the last six years and it just doesn't seem like Kyoya to let himself be out of control._ She shakes her head. _No, I'm not going to jump to conclusions or pry. I'll find out soon enough if we spend time together. We'll deal with it._

The limo turns onto a broad boulevard and Haruhi spies the Opera Tower, then the rest of the theater complex. She leans forward, looking out the front and side windshields, excitement banishing other thoughts. The National Theater of Tokyo is a spectacular edifice of metal, stone and glass - so different from Ouran Academy's prissiness. And knowing now, as she does, of Kyoya's interest in architecture, she sees it as more than just a building, taking note of line and connection, functionality infused with beauty. _It really is art._

Hotta enters the queue of vehicles depositing theater-goers near the main entrance. People from all walks of life are heading indoors to partake in one of several scheduled performances. Opera or ballet, traditional Japanese dance or theater - all are housed here.

"You may want to leave your coat in the car, Haruhi. It's only a short walk and the coat-check is a commoner's amenity," Kyoya advises.

"Commoner? That's an interesting choice of word and very Kyoya of you," she replies looking up at him with an arched brow.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that we should utilize the service since it's someone's job and we should support that."

"That's a perfectly good reason, though I don't want to use it either."

"Why not?"

"I like my new coat and want to show it off." She strikes a pose.

"Ah so."

"Besides, we're cutting things close and need to get to our seats." Maturity and seriousness settle in her expression with a knowing nod.

His expression doesn't change at her jibe though he asks, "Are you mocking me?"

"Just a little. C'mon, Kyoya. What can I do to get you to smile again?"

"Need you ask?"

Her pulse notches up at his veiled request and she bites her lower lip, knowing that she wants the same thing. She tilts her face up to receive his kiss without hesitation. It's simple and sweet and she wants to linger, but doesn't. When she pulls away, she sees a small smile grace his face.

"Better," she admits, "though I won't be able to employ this technique during club hours."

"Haruhi, if I could get a kiss from you every time Tamaki annoys me, your lips would never leave mine."

She chortles and finds that receiving compliments from him is something to which she could become accustomed, as well as his kisses. "C'mon. He isn't that bad."

"You don't know him as I do. Like a dog with a bone is our friend, Tamaki. Tenacity is one of the things I admire about him, but it's also one of the things that makes him impossible."

"He can be a bit obsessive. I'll grant you that."

"Obsessive, obstinate and melodramatic."

"But also…" She waits for the flip-side of Kyoya's assessment.

"Loyal, imaginative and industrious. I don't deny him his qualities, just his excessive nature when exhibiting them."

"In short, he's a person with good and not-so-good qualities, like the rest of the human race."

"I'm not sure if the Ootori family would include itself in that statement."

"You can't be serious."

"I didn't say I agreed with such an assessment, but it's the one my father chooses to foist on his children. 'Perfection is not the exception,' is one of his favorite phrases."

His demeanor has darkened again, so she squeezes his hand and looks into his eyes. "Let's not think about anyone else right now."

He returns her gaze and she senses at such close proximity the deep intelligence that makes him such a stunning student, along with keen perception that seems to be searching for something within her. Haruhi remains still under his intense and steady gaze. _What are you looking for?_

Their silent communication is interrupted by the door being opened by Tachibana. Kyoya assists her as they disembark and Haruhi is very glad she made them wear their coats. The night has turned gelid and they both pull their collars high around their necks. She thinks about putting on her gloves but doesn't want to lose Kyoya's hand entwined with hers. Looking up, she sees the moon has risen higher into the black winter sky, a now much smaller silver disc casting pale light in opposition to the warmth of the glow emanating from the modern structure before them.

Passing through the main entrance, she's exhilarated by the lights and sounds of expectancy; the movement of people that spills through the narrow openings, wide foyers and staircases like leaves flowing in a river of culture she's only experienced a few times and only through school trips during the day surrounded by mainly bored but diligent classmates. _This is different - a crowd that appreciates and understands beauty and art in its various forms. I like simple things, but I want to experience all of Life. It's part of being an educated person and getting along with different types of people. I know Dad approves, too._

Now, she waits at the top and to the side of a wide shallow staircase observing people below. Kyoya said he'd meet her here after checking their coats, but he hasn't yet returned. She scans the crowd and catches the eye of a handsome young Westerner, a little older than herself. He flashes her a bright smile. She smiles back with a subtle nod of her head to be friendly, then past him. The crowd is mostly older, well-dressed folk. The jewelry that sparkles under the lights glitters and the low roar of conversation is intermittently sprinkled with laughter.

"Waiting for someone?" a mellow voice with a tinge of a British accent asks beside her, in English. She pivots with a start. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"I apologize, as well, for being unaware of you." It's the stranger who smiled at her. At closer range, he's still cute with short brown hair and green eyes. "Do I know you?" she inquires, responding in English to be courteous.

"I'm James Gauge."

"Hello. I'm Haruhi Fujioka," she replies in the western-style of saying her given name first. "Are you new in Japan?"

"Been here about eight months now. My family moves around a bit 'cause of m'dad's work. I'm a second-year at Namikana High School. Mind if I ask what school you attend?"

"Ouran Academy."

"Posh digs over there, eh?" He sounds impressed.

"I guess."

"Aren't you sure?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it. Here by yourself?"

"Actually, no. I'm waiting for a friend."

"Lucky friend or is it more than that?" _He's flirting with me. Does he think I'm a guy or a girl? Does it matter? He's flirting with me!_ She finds herself flattered, if relatively uninterested.

"Not exactly."

"Then the position is available?"

"Listen," she says, needing to set the record straight. "You seem nice enough, but I don't know you and…"

"Everything alright?" Kyoya's voice is at her side, his hand reaching around her to hold her by the waist. His manner is calm, but his eyes threaten the encroaching male.

"Just chatting with your mate," Gauge says in an off-handed manner.

"Then your conversation is over," Kyoya says in English, his voice level while taking a step towards Gauge.

"Hey," Gauge says, pushing the brunet back with two fingers pressed to his chest. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Protecting my interest," comes the reply.

"No need to get huffy. Who are you? Her father?"

On a sigh, Kyoya replies, "I'm afraid that position has already been filled - twice." Haruhi groans inwardly. _This needs to stop now._

"Come again?"

"Kyoya," Haruhi interrupts, putting herself between Kyoya and Gauge, facing Kyoya who continues to glower until a sudden look of recognition crosses his face.

"I know you," he says.

Gauge is taken aback by Kyoya's sudden shift of focus. "Yeah?"

"You were at the Mitsubishi summer soiree last. Your father is an executive with them."

"Used to be."

"I see. Excessed or terminated?"

"You're a smug bastard. Probably have somebody tie your shoes for you every morning, don't you?"

"I assure you, I have every reason to be smug as a legitimate son of the Ootori family.

"I know that name. You have a couple of older brothers, don't you?"

Haruhi sees the fire flash behind Kyoya's lenses. "Senpai." Her voice is firm, a vague warning.

"Now, me?" the once-cute Gauge continues, "I may not be inheriting Japan, but at least I'm the first-born son."

Haruhi places her hand on Kyoya's arm. "Please."

"It's alright, Haruhi. I think the gentleman understands that his presence is unwanted. Don't you?"

 _Understands what? That you're both acting like cavemen idiots?_ Haruhi sees Gauge's gaze pass over Kyoya's shoulder, eyes opening a bit more before settling into a look of irritation as he turns and walks away. The house lights flicker on and off. She breathes a sigh of relief as they head into the theater which is when Haruhi spies Tachibana standing at a discreet distance. _That's why things didn't escalate. It may be precautionary, but it seems heavy-handed._

As they walk down a descending ramp that channels off from the main theater, Kyoya says, "I'm sorry you had to be subjected to that." Haruhi stops and tugs at Kyoya's arm, pulling him to one side of the wide aisle to allow others to pass. Her eyes flash with anger. "What's the matter?" he inquires with genuine concern.

Her voice is low but she speaks with emphasis. "First of all, I'm capable of handling myself in a crowded public space. This isn't Okinawa. Second of all, you were rude to flaunt your position the way you did." Kyoya is silent. "Moreover," she continues, "Need I remind you that I'm not an asset or an interest. I'm a person." Kyoya looks away, his shoulders set. Her voice eases. "I'm really happy that we're spending time together, Kyoya. I've wanted to get to know you better, but if we're going to continue this friendship, my feelings count."

"You seem to misunderstand my intentions."

"How do you mean?"

He looks back at her and pushes at his glasses. "We are already friends. What I'm interested in is something altogether different with you." His gaze is direct, his interest clear. She gets his meaning and she can't say that she isn't interested in the same, but there are clearly things they need to work out if they're going to become closer in any way. The lights flicker off and on several more times.

"Maybe we should get to our seats," she says uncertain of what to say or what else to do.

"Of course." Kyoya's hand rests at the small of her back, focusing Haruhi's attention as he guides her through a simple arch leading to a two-seat "box" that sits separately from the other seats, beneath the overhang of the level above and to the far right of the stage two levels down. "Would you care to sit on the inside or aisle?"

"Aisle, if you don't mind."

"Not in the least."

"Isn't Tachibana-san joining us?"

"He has a seat, but he won't be using it." Haruhi looks behind them, but the man in the black suit has disappeared again. _I don't get how it works, but it's a part of Kyoya's life so I suppose I'll have to adjust._ _I still don't understand these damned rich people._ She sits down in the carved wood and cushioned chair, resting her hands in her lap.

"Haruhi," Kyoya says close to her ear as the lights dim. She turns her head and looks at him. "I can't say I blame the fellow for being interested, but I'll keep your preferences in mind."

"That's all I ask," she says, "and I prefer to focus on the present which, right now, looks promising." She turns over one hand so that it lay palm up near his knee. He takes it and they clasp hands on his thigh. She drops her head and under cover of a darkened theater, smiles to herself fairly certain that he's doing the same.

Curtain's up.

End - Chapter 21 - Crawling

* * *

Crawling \- Green River Ordinance [Kyoya-centric]

I'm crawling in your heart.

Love in moderation  
Is all you ever gave, but look inside  
'Cause the sting of the sensation,  
It flickers like a drug there, in your eyes.

And you feel it, but you fight it.  
The more you pull the rope, it tightens.  
And you follow the moments  
To the place we've built to find...  
I'm crawling in your heart (2x).

You envy all the others.  
You're thumbing through the words  
Just to feel the heart.  
And will you ever see it? Oh.  
Well, it's me here by your side.

Can you feel it? But you fight it.  
The more you pull, the load gets lighter.  
And you follow my words, dear,  
To the place we've built to find...  
I'm crawling in your heart (2x).

Bridge (2x)  
Crawling in your heart …  
(We got miles and miles to go.  
You and me, a million miles to go.)

When you feel it, don't fight it.  
We can sail away tonight.  
And you follow the flashes  
Of the love we've built to find...

Bridge (4x)  
Crawling in your heart …  
(We got miles and miles to go.  
You and me, a million miles to go.)

I'm crawling in your heart.


	22. Upside Down

The lights dim and Haruhi feels the hush that comes over the crowd. Her program informs that there will be two ballets performed, both choreographed by George Balanchine. The first is "Jewels," a trio of dances set to the music of Fauré, Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky. The second is "Bugaku" with music by Toshiro Mayuzumi.

"I didn't realize there's a live orchestra," she whispers with excitement to Kyoya at her right.

"Normally, except for full rehearsals which are often attended by students."

_There's so much I don't know about these things but want to learn. I need to learn if I'm going to work as a professional one day._

The first ballet enchants her. She hasn't listened to much classical music except for well-known pieces, but Tamaki has been giving her lists of things to check out online. Some she enjoys, others less so. The dances for "Jewels" are not literal, though the bedazzled costumes reflect Emerald, then Ruby and finally Diamond dancers. As she watches, she recalls Tamaki's words about his mother. _He's keeping something from me about her. She's ill. I wonder how seriously and how he keeps smiling in spite of it. Kyoya must know. Maybe that's why he's so lenient with him when it comes to club matters. Or generally. They are pretty close. Seems like I don't know much about any of the hosts, really. Even after nine months. And about Kyoya? Least of all._

She allows her gaze to shift from the dancers onstage to his profile. _His features aren't stunning like Tamaki senpai's, though no one say Kyoya isn't good-looking. He's very handsome and if I were like our guests, a pretty face and fancy manners would be enough, but he's so much more than that. They all are.  
_

_So what is it about him that's gotten under my skin? Is it the fact that he kissed me? Am I so easily swayed by such things? No. It wouldn't have felt so wonderful unless he meant something to me. The girls have told me that you know it's The One by his kiss. I don't know if you're The One, Kyoya, but I do know that I used to crush on all of the hosts, but now?_ The faces of the hosts cross her mind. They're all dear to her, but only as cherished friends. She hasn't thought of a single one as anything other than that since Kyoya staked his claim in her reality. _Not even for a moment. He's everything I never knew I wanted: self-assured, calm in a crisis, smart, driven to succeed..._ She sighs. _Seductive. Just when did you cast your spell over me?_

The last song ends and everyone applauds as the principal dancers come through the center of the closed curtain to take their solo bows and retreat. House lights come up and the young man in her thoughts turns to her, holding her gaze for a moment or two, causing her heart to beat a little faster.

"Did you enjoy it?" he says with a quizzical smile.

"Very much so."

"Good. Intermission is fifteen minutes. Why don't we head to the main lobby? That's a bona fide show in and of itself."

"Is it?" she replies, tickled by his words and curious as to what he means.

Before answering, he guides her into the corridor. She entwines her arm in his and he tugs her nearer. As they walk together, he says, "For most people, the entertainment only occurs on stage. For the wealthy and influential, the social milieu is as interesting as the event. One never knows who one might meet and to what advantage."

"Must there always be an advantage or social gain?" she chides.

"Of course. It may be small or large, but opportunity lies around every corner in life, but only those prepared to seize the day benefit from it. And it isn't just my opinion. Everyone at Ouran understands this. Everyone at Host Club. Our families, our classmates, their families, acquaintances and business associates create a fabric that is tightly woven to ensure it doesn't tear apart."

"And we couldn't have that now, could we?" She laces her question with mild sarcasm.

"I recognize that it's elitist, but the Japanese social class system has secured our place as a world leader in multiple fields."

"Done so on the backs of the so-called lower classes," she amends. He considers her words calmly though a slight inclination of his head tells her he doesn't disagree with her assessment, even if he can't openly agree with it. _Hmm. Never seen him admit to anything like that. There may be hope for you yet, Ootori Kyoya._

As they move down the second staircase, she sees him slip into observation mode. She's seen the same look on his face during club hours as he ensures that every guest is paid due attention and small problems that arise stay that way. They continue until they're standing a third of the way into the main concourse, near a bank of windows that runs the length of the lobby. Beyond, overlooking the runnel below, light spills onto the dark water in ripples of light and color, creating yet another kinetic work of art.

"So," she says to Kyoya, determined to understand something of his world. "How's the side show tonight?"

He arches a brow at her terminology as he pushes at his glasses and faces her. "A fair mix for a Sunday evening though Saturdays tend to bring out the heavy-hitters: socialites with money looking for a worthy cause and perhaps more from a handsome fund-raiser, debutantes just looking to see and be seen per their conniving mothers' advice, social-climbers of all sorts and those who simply enjoy the arts - natives and tourists alike."

She's taken aback at his analysis. "I never realized these events were so political."

"But they are and keeping one's wits about oneself is a requirement or one could easily find oneself blackmailed, conned or otherwise engaged in a way one doesn't choose for oneself."

"I don't think I like that. It sounds cutthroat."

"Whatever made you think that being one of the elite was easy? Wealth is and always has been a double-edged sword. It provides a life of physical ease, enormous influence and great opportunity but, as with all things, there's a price to be paid. And still there are many who would use any means necessary to access that world of privilege." She seems a tad confused, so he continues. "That young man who approached you earlier, he was one such person thinking _you_ were rich and available."

She scoffs with a shake of her head, "No way."

He places his hand over hers on his arm and leans his face towards hers. "Surely you've learned something about how the male mind operates by this time. You're a desirable young woman, Haruhi, androgynously dressed or no. I must admit that while I like the ambiguity, I wouldn't mind seeing you in something better suited to your gender's unique charms."

Haruhi thinks about the article of clothing beneath her jacket, but to take it off now would seem rather crass. _But I haven't given up on it, yet._

An endless stream of people enter the lobby. _I hope we don't run into that guy from before._ During the performance, she'd recounted the exchange in her mind and come to a realization _. It was my fault there was any issue at all._

"Kyoya?" she begins on a somewhat serious note, looking up at him sideways, hoping that Tamaki's words about it being a non-threatening approach is true.

"Haruhi?" he says in like fashion looking down at her, eliciting a brief smile.

"I want to apologize for what happened earlier, with that Gauge fellow. He only approached me because I encouraged him."

"Ah so." He says it without inflection of any sort.

"I wasn't thinking and I slipped right into Host mode, asking him questions and being overly friendly and then-"

"Then?"

"When he asked if I was here with a friend or someone more than that, I said not exactly." A subtle flicker of disappointment in his eyes tugs at her heartstrings. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to diminish you in any way."

"And yet you did. Perhaps pursuing a steady relationship is not in the cards for us. If so-"

"I'm very interested in _you_." She's both surprised and glad to be so forthcoming about such a personal sentiment, but she doesn't want him second-guessing her. Not any more.

Without a trace of sentimentality, he replies, "There's no need to explain. I'm quite patient when it comes to getting what I want. And I'm well aware that you are a person, Haruhi - a person that I like very much and want to know better."

Kyoya's phone rings and he apologizes before answering. After only a few words, he turns to Haruhi. "I have to take this. Would you please excuse me?" She nods and he leaves her side. She misses his warmth at once and wants him back with her as soon as possible. It's not just an emotion, but a physical sensation of need, unexpected in its punch.

 _I've never felt this way before. And it's about Kyoya, the one host who scared me at first, the one who I thought didn't think of me as anything other than a common debtor. I know better now, but even so…_ She thinks back on their kisses in the limo, memory reigniting a tingle on her lips and a subtle ache in the middle of her chest.

A woman's laughter sounds beside her and in her half-reverie, Haruhi turns towards the sound but fails to see what's coming. The wine that spills on her chest is white, fragrant and all over her jacket. She gasps at the suddenness of it. _My jacket!_

"Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry," a woman with a now empty glass in hand says, bowing several times and looking askance at the result of her clumsiness. She's older, elegantly dressed and horrified at what's happened.

"I'm fine, really," is Haruhi's response though her open hands, palms facing upwards on either side of her, express her dismay as she watches the liquid trickling across the fine quilting and soaking into the soft leather.

The woman gestures to someone outside of Haruhi's sight line and a uniformed employee appears with a white linen napkin handed to Haruhi who daubs at the wet front of the haute couture garment.

"No, it's not fine at all," the matron says. "I've spilled my beverage on you and it's such a beautiful jacket. I must make amends. Please, allow me to have it cleaned properly and returned to you at my expense."

Haruhi turns up a palm saying, "Please, no. It's fine. Thank you for offering." She hands the napkin back to the attendant, having done as much as she can to mitigate the damage.

"I won't take no for an answer. Might you have a shirt beneath?"

"Umm, yes, but-"

"Fine. Take that jacket off right now."

"But-"

"Young man, I am Hashimoto Madoka, matriarch of the Hashimoto family and I insist. You wouldn't want to defy the will of the Hashimoto matriarch, now would you?"

"I'm Fujioka Haruhi and it's a pleasure to meet you." She isn't sure what being the Hashimoto matriarch means, but the woman is adamant and she doesn't wish to offend.

"Come, come," Hashimoto says. "What's the hesitation? You'll give me an address and you'll have it back by tomorrow or a new jacket to replace it, if need be." She flutters a hand in front of Haruhi. "Come on."

Despite the rapid pace at which all this is occurring, thoughts race at an equal pace through Haruhi's mind: _I don't want to be rude and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect opportunity. I can't wait to see Kyoya's reaction._ Haruhi unzips the jacket, pausing for only a moment, then lets it slip from her shoulders. The matron's eyes widen.

"Oh! Oh my goodness. I am terribly sorry. I had no idea you were a young woman, my dear; and I called you a young man." The matron bows several times once again. "I am terribly, terribly sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Haruhi replies more amused than anything else, the cool air on her now exposed shoulders and back giving her goosebumps. She holds the jacket by the collar at her side. She isn't under-dressed compared to some of the evening gowns she sees around her, yet remains oblivious to the way several theater-goers' eyes have registered her immediately altered appearance, particularly those of the males around her.

The red leather bustier fits snugly against her torso, accentuating her narrow waist and the flare of her hips in just the right way, the cups of the sweetheart neckline providing her modest bosom shape and fullness while the satin ribbon laces at her back run from top to bottom where they join in a loose bow. It fits her perfectly and suits her to a tee. she catches sight of her reflection in the glass windows several feet beyond. Her gender secret is a thing of the past to anyone present and the most-definitely female image that she spies is once again what the hosts would call "hot," just as they did a few days ago. _Has it only been days? So why is it suddenly okay to look this way?_ But she knows.

When she looks back at Hashimoto, she shrugs. "So I'm a girl. Disappointed?" she asks, mocking herself.

A familiar voice assails her ears from slightly behind her. "On the contrary. Is that Hitachiin you're wearing?"

Turning in place, her pulse racing, she sees Kyoya regarding her quietly, a subtle smile playing on his lips. She isn't one to blush, but seeing herself as "a desirable young woman" she's aware of the heightened interest in his eyes that seems to exclude everyone else in the room. She a little short of breath beneath the bone stays of the bustier as she turns to face him fully, allowing the garment to have full effect. _This is supposed to be a punishment, right? Haruhi, you moron. Whatever made you think_ _that_ _?_ He approaches, his focus never wavering from her eyes. _Cool indeed_. "You can thank Kaoru. Hikaru wanted me to wear a shirt and tie."

He shakes his head slowly as he nears, saying, "I have seriously and undeservedly underestimated Kaoru and will duly apologize tomorrow."

The matron who instigated the unveiling watches with interest. "I'm not sure what's going on, Fujioka-san, but it seems your young man likes this look a little better than the other."

"You are correct, madam," Kyoya states with a respectful bow to her. "Forgive me, but you seem familiar. Perhaps our families' paths have crossed."

"Indeed they have. You're one of the Ootori boys, aren't you?"

"Your perception is keen. I am the third son."

"Ah, yes. I knew I recognized you. My, but you've grown tall since last I saw you. It was over a year ago when your father hosted a gala announcing the acquisition by the Ootori Group of my nephew's MRI manufacturing company. My family name is Hashimoto."

"A distinguished family in its own right," Kyoya says graciously. "Perhaps you could enlighten me as to how you got Fujioka-san to reveal herself and perhaps Fujioka-san will enlighten me as to why she's kept such a delightful garment under wraps."

The matron steps closer to Kyoya, unable to resist slipping her arm around his to keep him beside her as she explains with a knowing smile, "Well, I'm either to blame or to thank, it seems. But seriously, I was holding my wine glass much too casually and this sweet young woman was the recipient of my faux pas." At that, she extends her hand to Haruhi, who takes it, allowing herself to be drawn closer.

The woman's light brown eyes twinkle as she looks at Haruhi. "My dear, I'm not sure why you're hiding your femininity when you're so lovely, especially while in the company of such a dashing young man from such a prestigious family."

Haruhi answers, "We go to school together," uncertain why that piece of information seems relevant, even as she says it with a quick glance at Kyoya. It betrays her nervousness, which he picks up on with amusement, his smile broadening. _So much for comeuppance._

"Excellent," Hashimoto replies. "I wouldn't let him out of my sight if I were you." She turns once more to Kyoya and begins to speak about their families doing future business together. As they do, Haruhi's attention drifts.

In the heavy glass beyond them, she espies Kyoya's reflection, which is doing its best to maintain focus on the conversation with the woman while sneaking covert glances her way. She smiles to herself and then, in that strange quirk of mind that unexplainably jolts one into seeing things in a fresh way, is made re-aware of how Kyoya presents to the world at-large and why his clients sigh, despite his detached manner. She finds herself doing the same, only more so knowing she has more than just his attention at her disposal. The idea makes her twitch.

The intermission lights blink on and off. "My apologies once more," Hashimoto says to Haruhi, removing the black velvet shawl she has tossed over one shoulder, exposing a modest neckline on the designer-cut dress she wears. "Please take this in exchange for your jacket, my dear. I wouldn't want you to catch cold, though," she adds with a wink at Kyoya, "I don't think young Ootori will allow that to happen."

"Rest assured, dear lady, Fujioka-san will want for nothing," comes the smooth response.

The matron smiles. "So, that's how it is, eh? How wonderful."

She hands the shawl to Kyoya, who adds, "You may return the jacket to the Ootori estate at your convenience," as he takes the jacket from Haruhi and passes it over.

"I certainly will. By the way, how is your mother doing? The last time I saw her she seemed well, but then I lost track of her and she disappeared from the Social Register."

"She's doing as well as expected. Thank you for inquiring after her." He turns to Haruhi. "We need to return to our seats." They bid good evening to the friendly-but-nosy matriarch and Kyoya ushers them away with some determination.

Haruhi senses his uneasiness. _It's about his mom, again._

As the couple leaves the lobby, Hashimoto Madoka watches, thinking they make a good match. She wonders about the girl, unfamiliar with her name, an anomaly since she knows everyone who is anyone in Tokyo. Perhaps she's from another city. She must be because she looked genuinely unaware of the Ootori family situation or perhaps she was just being polite. After all, the scandal occurred nearly a year ago. Poor Kazu-san, gone into seclusion after Tokyo gossip columnists broke the news that Ootori Yoshio was caught in yet another affair, this time with the wife of a foreign diplomat. Such drama.

End - Chapter 22 - Upside Down

* * *

Upside Down \- Tori Kelly [Haruhi-centric]

You have flipped my view.  
Yeah, I'm not used to these changes.  
All these brand new feelings I can't explain,  
But somehow I like it.

And if I find out  
That you feel the same way  
As I do, I will love you  
As soon as I can stand up straight. Ohh.

CHORUS:  
You got me walking sideways,  
Spinning all around,  
Dizzy because you flip my world  
Upside down. Upside down.

I've been so confused.  
I wouldn't normally fall for someone quite like you.  
I'm tripping over my own thoughts,  
But, Baby, I really like you a lot. Ahh.

I wonder if you feel the same.  
If you feel the same way,  
I wouldn't know just what to do  
'Cause I can't even stand up straight.

CHORUS

BRIDGE (2x):  
Can somebody tell me why I feel this way?  
24/7 you're always on my brain.  
I can't really put my finger on it, but  
You got me so twisted.  
I've had crushes before, but it's not the same.  
Something different about you, I can't explain.  
Baby, you're making me insane.  
You got me so twisted.

Ohh. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.  
Baby, you got me twisted.  
You flip my whole world. Yeah.

CHORUS (2x)


	23. Drop in the Ocean

****

Kyoya takes Haruhi's hand in his and they mount the first staircase. At the landing, he pulls her to one side and drapes the black velvet shawl edged with silky fringe around her shoulders, quietly saying, "You truly look spectacular."

Pleased and feeling bolder than ever, she arranges the shawl on her shoulders but drapes the sides beneath her arms, leaving the front of the bustier visible, along with what modest cleavage she possesses. _What is it that Chiyo once said to me? If you've got it, flaunt it? Well, it's not my usual style, but there's a first time for everything._

They mount the second staircase and reach their seats just as the lights begin to dim. Haruhi seeks Kyoya's hand, cool compared to her own, which is always warm. He gently gives it a squeeze before relinquishing. Haruhi leans towards him and asks sotto voce, "Do you know what this ballet is about?"

He leans in, as well. "I haven't seen it before, but I know that it tells a story." The curtain slowly rises and as it does, he murmurs in her ear, "It's supposedly erotic."

She takes in a breath, exhaling on a soft, "Oh." His voice is smooth, his breath warm on her ear, inciting a tingle that runs from her head to her toes. Below them, the stage shows a turquoise field edged in red. From the pit, violins shimmer in atonal cadences that irk and awaken the senses much like the ancient court music she's heard in her Traditional Music class. From the wings come six maidens dressed in pink, bell-like tutus, the skirts resembling flower petals. They dance fluidly and one maiden emerges as the principal ballerina. The gold-and-white samurai follow, strutting with athleticism to impress the ladies like bees seeking nectar. The principal male dancer emerges.

Both principals take center stage. Their movements are angular, yet sinuous. Haruhi is enchanted with the way their bodies move in space and time as living art, their ritualistic dance suggesting a wedding. The ballerina bride is doll-like, but with core strength that belies fragility. Her groom's physique manifests tensile control as he supports difficult positions and executes his own unique movements. _It's beautiful._

The happy couple leaves the stage and several pairs dance in celebration. When the bridal party returns, all are costumed in various shades of white: snowy tights with alabaster form-hugging leotards topped by diaphanous pearly robes that billow and swirl as they move. The bride's attendants draw her aside and, while they artfully flutter a panel of milky silk in front of her, she sheds her robe leaving her in only a sheer, pale leotard overlaid by a fabric bikini covered in intricate flowers and crystals. She rejoins her partner who wears tights and a snug tank that hugs his form. The wedding night is upon them and their nudity is assumed _._

The pair begins their intimate pas de deux, which is truly suggestive while never being profane. Haruhi is mesmerized. And though both dancers are upright when the ballerina extends her leg along the body of her partner, her foot resting on his his shoulder, their bodies juxtaposed as a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, the message is obvious. _It's sex - artistic, formalized sex._ She unwittingly shifts forward in her seat, much like the rest of the rapt audience. The sensuality of man and woman expressing carnality in symbolic form puts her in touch with her own body, stirring her blood. _Whoever thought ballet was dull has never seen this._

"What are you thinking about?" Kyoya suddenly whispers in her ear.

"N-nothing," she lies, though she leans her head towards his warmth without thinking. He responds by nuzzling his nose against the sensitive shell so that her eyeslids droop and her breath grows shallow. _That feels nice._ She's surprised at her willingness to have him continue despite their relatively open location, but she's unwilling to move.

Kyoya's arm slips between the back of her chair and her body, hand coming to rest along her waist as he shifts closer. Haruhi remembers what her literature teacher said about the theater being a place of social interplay. _Interplay? That's an interesting word to use._ Her lidded gaze remains on the figures who continue their provocative pas de deux as they carry out their own.

She feels Kyoya's hand slip beneath the shawl to slowly walk its way from the hem of the bustier up her back until his fingers are ghosting over her bare back. She softly inhales and exhales as a shiver plays across her flesh. The wrap slips from her shoulder, exposing it. She doesn't move to replace it and a few moments later, Kyoya's lips softly brush her shoulder as she closes her eyes completely and remembers to breathe. Her entire body has come alive as if a switch has been flicked ON, her emotions stirred by the dancers' movements coupled with the tactile sensations spiraling through her. Genuine desire saturates her senses for the first time, its pure heat unlike anything she's ever felt before.

In a space filled with hundreds of people, she feels alone with Kyoya. The sensations in her body flow where they will and she recognizes them for what they are, welcoming her newfound state of being as good and right. And then, practicality and propriety worm their way into her thoughts. _Get a grip, Haruhi. You're not thinking straight. Nope. I'm not thinking at all. What can happen? We're in public. It's not what happens in public that you should worry about. It's what happens when you're alone with him again. I can't pretend I don't feel what I feel, but we've only just started going together. I can't just give in. There are consequences to consider. And so much else. Oh kami-sama. This is confusing and frustrating and… and… I want more. I want him, but I have to be smart about this._

She manages to take in as deep a breath as the bustier will allow, centering her emotions and reluctantly pulling the shawl back up around her shoulder with a subtle tremble in her hand, causing Kyoya to sit back. "I'm sorry," he says softly and removes his hand from beneath the shawl, resting his forearm on the low-set arm rest between them. She notices the minute tremor in his fingers that mirrors her own and hears him sough a breath with a slight hum as he regains composure. She leans her head against his shoulder, taking comfort from its solidity and presence. The pas de deux is over. The company re-emerges and everyone dances the finale.

The piece ends and the applause begins. Haruhi's mind is fully open, awareness as sharp as its ever been. _I'll remember this forever._ The audience is standing in ovation and they join in. As the cheers continue through the curtain calls, Kyoya's hand drops between them. She notices and follows suit. His fingers splay and she lightly weaves her own with his. He responds by pressing the length of his palm against hers, webbing joined so that she feels his heartbeat pulsing against her hand, his excitement matching hers. It's all so new and different and she's lost, lost.

Her eyes leave the stage to turn to Kyoya whose eyes are already on her. Staring into those eyes the color of the sky just before a storm, she feels her body moving closer to him, physically, as her emotions pull him deeper into her heart. _How can this happen so quickly? I want your arms around me. I want to kiss you._ She drops her head, unsure of what to do, and feels him press a fervent kiss on her forehead. _Has he read me so easily?  
_

"Ready to go?" he asks, his breathing slightly off.

"Good idea," she replies, knowing she shouldn't be rushing headlong into being alone with him but unable to refrain. Or unwilling.

"We do have to wait until the crowd thins a bit. Tachibana will let us know." He reaches out to tuck a stray tuft of hair behind her ear, his fingers skimming down her neck and over her shoulder, where they rest, the new warmth of his hand easily reaching her skin through the soft fabric that separates them. It's a tender and unlikely move for the Shadow King, making it special to her. "Politicos and special guests are escorted privately at the beginning of curtain calls," he continues. "The lesser elite wait until the end."

"The Ootori family is considered lesser? That's a surprise."

"I know the name is influential, but there are those who sit even above our heads - well, mine at least."

Haruhi turns to watch the slowly emptying theater, needing a moment to simply be. Kyoya's free arm wraps around her from behind, holding her against him. The feeling of being enfolded is luscious and warm, and she savors the closeness that's developing with a soft smile he doesn't see. She scans the orchestra, then lifts her eyes to the first mezzanine. Those who sat front row center are still hemmed in by others waiting to depart. As they do, Haruhi's mind wanders into playing her usual pass-the-time game, Cast of Characters, in which she selects a random stranger and makes up a story in her head about them.

_Who to pick? There's a cute elderly couple…a female foreigner with a young girl, probably her daughter…a handsome middle-aged man, a teen who looks familiar… Wait. A teen who looks familiar?_

"Tamaki-senpai?"

The arm around her stiffens. "Where?" he asks, his tone of voice suddenly somber with an edge of irritation.

"First mezzanine. Is that Chairman Suoh he's with?"

"Yes," Kyoya fairly growls. "I swear I'll kill him."

"Kyoya, don't be angry. Maybe it's coincidence."

"No, this is exactly what I said to you at dinner. Tamaki has a blind spot when it comes to how his actions affect others. I'm sure he decided to come here after he found out that we were coming here."

"So? I mean, I know he's a little crazy and can't help himself when he gets an idea in his head, but really…what does it matter?"

Kyoya's phone vibrates once again. "What is it?" he says sternly into the speaker. "What? Where?" He heaves a breath. "Very well. Keep them there. We'll be right out." He disconnects and collects himself, his warm affect gone frigid in a matter of seconds, worrying Haruhi. _I've seen him like this before, but the change was so swift, it's scary._

Kyoya says, "Tachibana is waiting for us in the lobby with a woman who claims _she's_ your father."

Haruhi's spirits sink and she groans. "Oh, no. Dad?" Kyoya nods. _He just never learns._

The two adolescents make their way through the corridor and down the stairs. As they enter the space where they met with Hashimoto, Haruhi sees Tachibana to their right, standing beside one of the long upholstered benches situated against the wall of the theater. Sitting there, looking diffident, is an auburn-haired "woman" dressed smartly in heels and a skirted evening suit - her father. What's more, Hikaru and Kaoru flank his sides. _Typical Hitachiin setup, but Dad? Come on._

Her irritation blends with confusion as the eyes of the twins light up and their mouths drop open upon seeing her. Then she remembers. _The bustier. I forgot._ Ryoji looks up, too. Upon seeing his daughter looking quite beguiling with new love rouging her cheeks, he looks to either side of him. Spying the twins' reactions, he extends both arms to cover two sets of equally gawking eyes with his hands.

"Ha-ru-hiii?" Ryoji says, his voice rising higher and higher until she's certain he'll squeak at any moment. "Where's your jacket? You told me you were going to keep it on all night."

She heads directly to stand before him, hands on hips."Don't you dare lecture me, Dad. I warned you about this." Her anger is mollifying. Kaoru pulls Ryoji's hand downward so that it covers his mouth instead of his eyes, while Hikaru slaps it away completely, to which Ryoji responds with a yelp and a cross glance.

"Please don't be angry with me, sweetheart-" Ryoji's hands fall back into his lap, his eyes begging mercy.

Kaoru makes great pretense of breathing again, saying, "I don't know why you would agree to that, Haruhi. You look fantastic! I knew you would. Hey Hikaru," he adds calling to his twin behind Ryoji's back, "Doesn't she look awesome?"

Hikaru is struggling to appear disgruntled, but she catches his all-encompassing glance and sees the puckish twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, yeah. You were right," comes his forced admission.

Haruhi is neither amused nor diverted. "Stop. Just stop right now, the three of you. This isn't about me, it's about you. And I don't care what you were thinking or whose idea this was. I'm not speaking to any of you for the next seven days!"

"It was my fault, Haruhi," Ryoji declares. "Don't blame the twins. They merely provided transportation."

"And tickets," Hikaru chimes in.

"Hika, shut up," Kaoru grouses.

"So." Haruhi's eyes narrow. "Just how long have you super-spies been following us?" She turns her head to look at Kyoya, who remains a step back, arms crossed, chin lowered, glasses flashing with ominous intent; disquieting, even to her. _Maybe if I'm hard enough on them, Kyoya will let them live._

Her thoughts are interrupted by the steady voice of the Shadow King. "I believe Tachibana can answer that question." Everyone turns towards the silver-haired bodyguard who has stood at silent attention throughout the exchange. Now, he looks at Kyoya, nods, then turns to face Haruhi with a bow.

"Young Miss, it was Aijima who alerted me to the Hitachiin limousine's presence near your home and its following the Bentley. He was instructed to only monitor since, at that point, we weren't certain if the occupants were snooping or simply delayed in following, although we assumed the former due to the fact that our young Master did not advise us of there being a second vehicle attached to the event."

"Well, that's no surprise," Hikaru interrupts. "Kyoya-senpai isn't the most forthcoming when it comes to sharing information, now is he?" He glares at Kyoya whose own expression grows darker.

"Go on," Haruhi says in a level voice. _What is going on with everybody tonight?_

Tachibana continues, "I noticed this trio loitering in the lobby at the Roi Grand, but only the…uhh…lady dined at Lotus."

Ryoji's face lights up as he exclaims, "And it was wonderful, though I could only order an appetizer and some sake. The cost, you know. But you looked so beautiful and so utterly happy-" He pauses, a frown turning his smile upside down. "Until that idiot, Suoh Tamaki, showed up."

"Don't - say - another - word," Haruhi intones, completely ticked off by her father's audacity and the twins' complicity. _Tamaki-senpai isn't the only idiot in this mess._

Ryoji sulks, shifting until his back hits the wall, one arm crossing his chest while the other frames his face with two fingers in the shape of an "L." The twins are sitting in mirror-image, gripping the edge of the bench with their hands as they perch forward, looking like a pair of parakeets waiting to escape their cage.

"Anything more?" Haruhi asks Tachibana.

"Yes, young Miss. I recognized the Hitachiin, of course, and had Aijima monitor them. Their presence and that of your…father...would never have inconvenienced my young Master or yourself had you both not gone to the lobby at Intermission. It then became a matter of avoiding a head-on collision which, knowing Kyoya-sama, was to be avoided at all costs."

Haruhi again looks at Kyoya who remains a statue. _So, that's who you spoke to and why you hustled me back upstairs._ "You knew they were here," she directs at him.

"I didn't want to spoil your evening with their foolishness. I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

The twins lean forward and give one another a look. Hikaru then says to Kyoya, "Ummm, senpai? You do know that Tamaki-senpai is here, too, right?"

Kyoya's Death Glare is now fully operational and aimed at the trio that huddles together with genuine regret for their actions, cross marks dancing on their foreheads.

Kyoya responds stiffly, "We saw him with his father."

"Good thing he's with him. His father, that is," Kaoru says, hoping to keep the walls from caving in on the hole Hikaru keeps digging deeper.

Hikaru adds in a nonchalant manner, "Yeah. The last thing we need now is Tamaki-senpai showing up."

Haruhi looks around nervously as if the invocation of the blond's name will make him appear like a phantom, just as he did at Lotus. _But no, we're safe. So far._

" _I_ think we all should just call it a night," she finally says. "There's school tomorrow and it's getting late." Nobody on the bench moves, afraid to make any suggestion after their total bungle of the evening. _I wish you'd say something, Kyoya. You're making me nervous._ When there's no response from him, she says to the twins, "Well, obviously you guys have a car so you can go home directly." She sighs. "And it makes no sense for you to take a cab or go with them, Dad, so I guess you'll ride home with Kyoya and me." _So much for being alone with Kyoya again. I'd bet money that you planned this all along, Dad, but you're just not that devious. And trust me, I know devious from these two._

She turns to Kyoya. "Is that alright with you?" she asks. He doesn't answer, so she takes a step closer. "Kyoya? Are you okay?" Her brow wrinkles at the pallor of his face and his dilated pupils. He struggles to stay upright and, as Haruhi's concerned voice calls his name once more, he staggers forward and into Tachibana's ready arms.

End - Chapter 23 - Drop in the Ocean

* * *

Drop in the Ocean \- Michelle Branch [Haruhi-centric]

Love took me by the hand.  
Love took me by surprise.  
Love led me to you.  
And love opened up my eyes.

And I was drifting away  
like a drop in the ocean,  
And now I realize that  
nothing has been as beautiful  
As when I saw heaven's skies  
In your eyes. In your eyes.

And every time I drift away,  
I lose myself in you.  
And now I see I can be me  
In everything I do.

'Cause I was feeling as small  
as a drop in the ocean,  
And now I realize that  
nothing has been as beautiful  
As when I saw heaven's skies  
In your eyes. In your eyes.

Love took me by the hand.  
Love took me by surprise.  
And I was drifting away  
like a drop in the ocean.

Now I realize that  
nothing has been as beautiful  
As when I saw heaven's skies  
In your eyes. In your eyes.  
In your eyes. In your eyes.

Inyoureyes. (sung as one word)


	24. Eyes Closed

 

Kyoya hears their voices as if he's deep underwater - muffled and slightly incoherent. Haruhi's lovely eyes come into view, her worry clear as her face dims. He would speak if he could, but he's dizzy and having trouble standing. And then, just before everything goes dark, he sees Tachibana anticipate his tumble...

Back in the limo, Kyoya revives with Haruhi beside him, watching him with a relieved look upon her face. They're without their coats, but it doesn't matter.

"Kyoya, are you sure you're alright?" she queries.

"I'm fine. It must have been the medication I took earlier."

"I didn't realize that you took medication. Not that you have to tell me or anything." She's watching him closely and though he appreciates her concern, he's never liked undo fuss made over himself.

"I suffer with migraines from time to time. It's manageable, but Yuuichi prescribed something new and I took it for the first time this afternoon." He presses his fingers against his eyes, beneath his glasses. When he looks again at Haruhi, she seems troubled and more than a little wan, herself.

"Haruhi, are you alright?"

"Uh- I just can't breathe very well." Kyoya's eyes widen.

"What's wrong? Should I call someone?"

"It's this darned top Kaoru brought. I had to ask my dad to tie it and he made it too snug."

"Do you feel faint?"

"No, but I don't seem to be able to catch my breath." She's leaning partially forward with her hands pressed against her torso. Her breathing is shallow and definitely labored.

"Is there some way I can help you?" he asks, concern morphing to worry.

"Maybe you could loosen the ties a little bit?"

That stops him cold and a small frisson runs up his spine as he pushes at his glasses. "Of course," he replies as innocently as possible. Haruhi turns her back to him and unzips the leather jacket. She lets it slip from her shoulders, allowing Kyoya to help her slough it off completely.

"If you could somehow undo the bow or whatever my dad did, that would be great," she instructs.

Kyoya isn't paying attention to her words, distracted as he is by the smooth expanse of her back, a delicate frame overlaid by the beautiful canvas of her skin. His desire to touch her is strong; he wants to feel each inch as it slides beneath his fingers, to make her sigh and ask for more. More that he wants, too. His pulse is already quicker and he takes in a deep breath through his nose and releases it to clear his rapidly clouding mind.

He tugs at the shiny red ribbons that intertwine in deliberate complexity thanks to Ryoji, a Gordian knot times ten. It seems impossible, but he's always been clever at solving puzzles, so he attempts to unravel his beauty's laces. As he works, a change comes over him as he applies himself: observant and focused as his fingers manipulate cross-ties and interwoven ribbons that beneath his fingers transform into slim, golden chains that secure the laced back. He groans in frustration.

"If," he says, "your father was so intent on keeping you modest, why on earth did he let you wear this thing? Just to make me crazy? Because if that was his intent, it's working."

"Kyoya, stop."

"No, no. I've almost got it." He decides that a certain amount of force is required, so he tugs at the flimsy chains and they come apart in his hand, tiny links flying in all directions like glittering stars.

"Kyo-" And then the bustier gaps opens and the rest of Haruhi's back becomes visible; the small ridges of her spine, the graceful curve of her lower back exposed to him. She clutches the garment against her front, but says nothing. Her shoulders rise and fall with a full breath of air as she says, "Oh wow. Thank you, senpai. So. Much."

"It's Kyoya, Haruhi. And is that the best you can do to show your appreciation?" he murmurs, his now unoccupied hands lightly grasping her bare shoulders and skimming down her arms. The slide of his hands along her skin makes her breath hitch in a shudder, as if she still finds it difficult to breathe. His left hand reaches around her waist to settle over hers, where it rests against her torso, fingertips extending beyond hers. His right hand, meanwhile, has traced its way back upwards along her arm, evoking a delectable sound from her. She's quiet after that and he pulls her closer against him, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear.

She reaches back with her free hand to caress his cheek. "Kyoya," she breathes.

"I told you I'd remember what you like."

She tips her head back against his shoulder and their mouths meld. Haruhi takes control, alternating her capture of his upper, then lower lip with a passion that's new. "I want you," she murmurs against his mouth as she turns in his arms and throws a leg between his knees. Their kiss deepens and he begins to lose himself in the sensation.

Unexpectedly, Haruhi is suddenly Tamaki, the feel of his body within Kyoya's embrace instantly recalled. Where Haruhi is soft, Tamaki is lean; where Haruhi is rounded, Tamaki is angular. They're different in fundamental ways, yet both can and have aroused him. "Don't do this, Suoh. Leave me be." The final three words echo in Kyoya's mind over and over.

He pushes the blond away and Tamaki turns to sand that swirls and dissipates until there's nothing left. Kyoya looks down at the empty bench beside him and there lies a beating heart, a small orange flame flickering at its center. He picks it up with two hands, cradling it. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispers to it. "I don't want to lose you." The heart sprouts small fiery wings and flutters until it turns into a bright yellow canary. It hovers and looks at Kyoya from one eye and then the other with a turn of its head before flying away into the night.

Kyoya looks around and he's at home, in his room, staring at his bed. Two figures are entwined and moving under the covers, though he can't make out who they are. As he approaches, a bone-white Great Pyrenees sits up from the opposite side the bed and cocks its head at him.

"Don't you recognize me?" it asks in Tamaki's voice and Kyoya notices its violet eyes.

"What do you want from me?" he counters, truly curious.

"The same as what you want from me," Tamaki-dog rejoins.

"But I don't want that with you. I want Haruhi."

"You can have Haruhi. But you can have me, as well. See?"

The dog points its snout towards the bed and Kyoya suddenly recognizes that there are not just two figures there, but three; himself flanked by Haruhi and Tamaki. He leans forward in surprise and more than a little interested. They're all naked.

Haruhi is at his left curled around him, her tousled head against his chest with an arm loosely holding him and one leg tossed over his thigh. He faces her, embracing her in return. Tamaki is at his back, fair head nestled into Kyoya's neck, one long arm wrapped around both Kyoya and reaching for Haruhi while his lower torso moves provocatively against Kyoya's bottom.

And then, he's no longer a voyeur, but a participant, fully feeling the weight and presence of Tamaki's love against him. _I want this._ He looks at Haruhi's serene face as she sleeps. _But I want her, too. I care about them both._ Haruhi opens her eyes with a dreamy expression and he's caught in their depths, feeling guilty _and_ unashamed.

"I'm the future," she says with certainty and Kyoya notices that her hair is longer, her body is fuller and she appears to be ten years older than they are now. She's lovely, as he knows she will be.

"Yes," he replies. "I want you there. Always."

Then Tamaki's voice is at his ear, breath warm and enticing, "But you want me now, don't you?" Kyoya turns away from Haruhi to face Tamaki, who lies back, his lithe body posed in perfect seductive attitude for him.

"How can I resist you? You're beautiful. You always have been. And you've always, always seen me for who I am."

"You love me, Kyoya, admit it." The smile is generous and all-forgiving, just as it has ever been.

"But we can't be. It'll never happen."

"Do you love _her_?"

"I think I do. We may be young, but the thought of her not being in my life tears me apart. I can't allow it."

"So you can lose me. Is that it?" The violet eyes are sad, tears welling.

"It doesn't have to be that way. You're my best friend. I don't want to lose that."

"Then you'll have to choose," say two unison voices that Kyoya knows well.

Yuuichi and Akito are standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at the three of them. They are dressed as ancient shoguns, Yuuchi's expression holding disgust while Akito's is mildly dismissive, but not disapproving. Kyoya immediately sits up and draws the covers around Haruhi.

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

"Making sure you don't screw up, Brother," Yuuchi pronounces with hostility.

"Or around," Akito adds, looking at Tamaki a shade longer than necessary as the blond makes no attempt to shield his nakedness.

"It's my life," Kyoya retorts.

"Yes, but it's our family," Akito states with a trace of superiority. "What each of us does individually affects us all. It's in your own self-interest to remember that, Kyo."

"You remember self-interest, don't you?" Yuuichi asks, his eyes taking in Haruhi's feminine form outlined by silken sheets as she keeps her eyes averted from them. "You're an Ootori and that is our driving characteristic."

"Must it always be so?" Kyoya demands.

They're suddenly at the hospital where his father and Yuuichi work, each dressed in a bespoke tailored suit, himself included; though instead of a suit jacket, he wears a white lab coat and a stethoscope looped around his neck. The three brothers are sitting on three identical black leather chairs that face the center of a carpeted circle inscribed with the Ootori logo so ingeniously designed that it appears upright to each viewer. This, within Yuuichi's corner office situated directly below his father's which, somehow, Kyoya can see through the ceiling above them. From that eyrie, he sees his father keen eyes watching them.

Kyoya stands up and walks over to a wall where a tall ornate mirror reflects his image. In the glass, he sees himself as a medical student. The young man there is handsome, regal in posture, with an air of authority and intelligence that only comes from excellent breeding. _I am an Ootori_. Yuuichi and Akito join him, but face him on either side of the mirror. Yuuichi holds out to him a golden Caduceus, symbol of commerce, while Akito extends a silver Rod of Asclepius, symbol of healing.

"These are your birthright," Yuuichi asserts.

"Would you deny it?" Akito asks.

"What if I do? What then? Am I to be disowned?"

"Mind your words, brother," warns Yuuichi. "Going against our father is unwise."

"What of going against myself?"

Akito reminds, "As we said before, you must choose."

Kyoya stares at the serpents that entwine around the staffs of both symbols, their meaning in each similar, but different when viewed in context. Modern society has blended them together until the truth is no longer readily known; the truth has become inconsequential _. Much like my life._ The stethoscope around his neck begins to twist of its own accord until it becomes a living snake that coils itself around Kyoya's neck until he's choking. He falls to his knees, one arm supporting his upper body as the other rips the serpent from his throat, tossing it aside.

The sound of rain fills his ears and when he looks up, he's driving an automobile with Haruhi beside him. They're teens once more. Haruhi's head rests against her bent arm propped against the passenger window, her eyes closed though he can't tell if she's asleep. She looks peaceful and he wants her to have that. The wipers swish across the windshield - swicka-slap - swicka-slap - but can hardly keep up with the torrent. The twisting road he navigates sits astride a slim isthmus, sheer rocky cliffs dropping off on either side of them as storm clouds gather above. Far ahead, green hills beckon, a shaft of sunlight gilding their peaks. A roadside sign appears indicating a fork in the road though he can't see anything but an opening into a turnout to his left; a place where weary travelers can find respite before continuing. He pulls into the lot, turns off the car and calls to Haruhi, who opens dozy eyes and smiles at him.

"Are we there yet?" she asks with a sigh.

"Not yet and maybe not for awhile."

"As long as we're together."

They share an umbrella and make their way to a small wooden edifice at one end of the lot. The building is nondescript, but it's mere backdrop for the wisteria vine that grows beside the door, its thick trunk rooted deep into the earth, vines heavy with lush purple blooms that droop sensually over the arched doorway, turning the simple into the sublime.

Haruhi is laughing as she scampers through the door. As Kyoya toes off his shoes, she says, "Look what I did for us." She steps aside and he sees a thick crimson comforter edged in gold spread out on the floor, a warming fire blazing in the portable fireplace set off to one side.

"When did you plan this?" he asks.

"I didn't," she says. "You did." She holds out her arms to him. He approaches her and strokes her cheek before dropping his head to kiss her mouth. Her lips move against his sweetly and he navigates them down onto the comforter until she's on her back and he's on his side directly beside her. She's barefoot and wearing the dress she wore in Okinawa. Her head rests in the cradle of his arm as his other hand holds her by the waist, then slowly descends to the hem where he slips his hand beneath and begins to trace a slow path upwards along her thigh.

"What are you doing?" she chides, a knowing look in her eye and he pauses in his pursuit.

"Do you want me, Haruhi?" he asks earnestly looking into her eyes. "Just as I am and not someone you think I am?"

"I'm here aren't I?"

"But what if you find out something about me that you don't like? What if I disappoint you?"

"You won't. You're perfect."

"Don't," he admonishes.

"Don't what?"

"Don't be one of those frivolous girls that lives in delusion. I need you to be real with me. My life is complicated and I can be difficult. It's unlikely that will change. Can you deal with that?"

She angles herself towards him. "I'm with you now, Kyoya. Just be with me."

Verbal conversation ceases as body language commences. Their kisses begin as soft explorations of lips pushing and tugging at one another; but quickly escalate into more ardent and needy expressions of desire. Haruhi darts forward her tongue and he meets it with his own, sliding it between her parted lips and relishing the sounds of her weakening resistance, his own self-control waning as he gives into the delicious sensations fluxing through his body.

She takes his hand and places it over her breast where it easily encompasses her. His thumb brushes the nipple and she hums, exciting him further. The thin fabric between them only adds to the thrill of feeling it stiffen under his manipulation. She shifts her position beneath him and rubs herself against his groin, sending sparks racing through his rising member, turning his skin to flame.

And then they are coupling, effortlessly, passionately. Clothing is somehow gone and there is nothing between them, his senses overwhelmed by the softness of her flesh, the curves of her body, her heat sheathing him as he pushes inside of her. She must be a celestial creature because he's in heaven and she's calling his name…

"Kyoya. Kyoya? Can you hear me?"

Consciousness is rising and though he tries to hold onto the images in his mind, they fade rapidly until they're gone, irrevocably lost. It's dark and he tries to open his eyes, but his glasses are off and something is weighing down his eyelids. Reaching up, he feels a cool cloth covering his eyes. He attempts sitting upright, but there's pressure at his shoulders keeping him down.

Slowly, he comes to his senses. Someone is pillowing his head, turned to one side, and a hand is weaving itself through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. It feels nice, soothing; and he allows himself to drift. His lower legs seem to be resting on something solid, but giving. He hears and recognizes Yuuichi speaking to someone in a one-sided conversation.

"He's stable and coming around. I'm just keeping him quiet for a bit until I'm sure he can stand…I don't think that's necessary though I'd like to run a full check-up on him tomorrow…If he's up for school, he should attend. Finals are approaching and he can't miss a day...Don't baby him, Fuyumi. It's just a bad reaction to the new medication…He was only unconscious for a few minutes. He should be fine...No, he was with his friends and, of course, Tachibana…The Hitachiin brothers and a girl named Fujioka with her - I think it's her mother though I'm not sure. You can speak with him tomorrow. I'm hanging up now."

Kyoya's heard enough. He pulls the cloth away from his eyes and attempts to sit up. Renewed force is applied to his shoulders, keeping him pinned.

"You need to lie still," says Haruhi firmly, looking down at him, her face upside down. "We're still at the theater where you fainted. Your brother, Ootori-sensei, was here almost immediately it seemed. Tachibana-san handled everything. It was quite impressive.

"He's an exemplary employee. Where are the twins?"

"Your brother sent them home. Dad and I stayed to keep you company."

"Thank you for that. I don't like Yuuichi much. I'm sure he wants to hook me up to a bank of machines and run me through scads of tests just to prove that he knows everything there is to know about me, which he doesn't even if he is a psychiatrist."

"Here's here because he cares, isn't he?"

"Sometimes I wonder." Kyoya looks down his body to where Ryoji sits with Kyoya's stockinged feet propped in his lap. He's been watching their exchange and now has a genuine smile on his face.

"Ryoji-sama, I apologize for my inelegant position."

"Oh, it's nothing. I've had many a foot in my lap-" He stops abruptly and covers his mouth with his hand, faux pas realized.

Haruhi looks confused, "What are you talking about, Dad?"

"Oh, Haruhi. Don't mind me. Besides, you're much too young to understand." He waves her off. She stares him down.

"I'm practically sixteen and I hang around with a bunch of teenaged guys who, try as they may to keep their tongues civil and their thoughts to themselves, are still teenaged guys."

"I've always thought as much, but I'm sure Kyoya doesn't indulge in such perversity."

"Thank you, Ryoji-sama. I do try to maintain a certain standard for myself, after all."

"Oh, really?" Haruhi scoffs.

Kyoya ignores her and goes on to say, "But thank you for being here for Haruhi's sake. And mine."

Ryoji responds, "I'm glad you appreciate that I stayed for Haruhi's sake, though I have to say I'm glad you're alright." He looks towards Yuuichi, who's conversing with a jacket-less Tachibana. "Your man is quite loyal to you. Is he married?"

"Da-ad!" Haruhi reprimands. "Quit being so nosy."

"It's a legitimate question. I mean, how can he manage a wife and family if he's always on duty?"

"Tachibana is indeed married and has a child, as well," Kyoya relates. "His family is supportive because it guarantees their financial security and a good education for their daughter. It's simple give-and-take."

"Hmmm. Seems like a fair trade, although it must get lonely for his wife."

"I wouldn't know. I don't look into the private lives of my Guard. They're employees of the Ootori family and keeping a discreet distance works best for everyone."

"If you say so. You two, on the other hand, seem to have gotten closer. It reminds me of how your mother and I met, Haruhi."

"Not now, Dad."

"But I want to tell Kyoya the story."

"Perhaps another time," Kyoya states. "I'm afraid my focus is still off."

"Very well. You really should go to a hospital, you know, all things considered."

"There's no need. I am going home."

"But you'll go through with whatever tests your brother requires," Haruhi says. "You nearly scared me half to death when you passed out. Everyone was worried."

"I'm sorry to have troubled you, but I'm fine, really."

She pushes back and leans in so that her face is close to his. "It's no trouble," she says quietly. "I figure it makes our first date rather memorable, don't you?" She gives him a wry smile.

"Haruhi," he whispers and she moves her ear close to his lips. "I like the fact that you've just agreed to another date with me. And I will make this up to you, I promise."

She nods and he relaxes, Haruhi's hand returning to sift through his hair, just as she did before. Kyoya closes his eyes once more with a satisfied sough of air. He doesn't remember anything from when he was unconscious, but there will be other dreams. In fact, he's dating one.

End - Chapter 24 - Eyes Closed

**Dream symbols broken down by scene:** _**  
**_

**In the car:** Gordian knot - difficulties; Knot undone - freedom; Gold chains - honor and dignity; Breaking chain - disruption of balance; Tamaki's heart - compassion; Orange flame - forbidden passion; Wings - creative energy; Yellow - intellect; Flying canary - sexual excitement; Losing a Canary - loss of what is dear.

 **In the bedroom:** White dog - loyalty; Speaking animal - potential to possess the qualities of that animal; Nakedness - inhibitions revealed; Shogunates - powerful warriors.

 **In the office:** Three - power in completeness; Black - sorrow; Chairs - security of status; Circular rug - cyclical events, equality, an embryo; Oblong mirror - truth and self-realization; Gold Caduceus - commerce; Rod of Asclepius - healing arts; Snakes - evil or healing ; Destroying a snake - control of impulses; Glass ceiling - short lived barrier; Father figure - morality; Noose - anger and restriction.

 **On the journey:** Rain - purification; Sheer cliffs - ambitions; Isthmus/Bridge - test of courage, connection; Driving a car - change; Green - trickery; Hills - danger; Shaft of sunlight - sudden illumination; Purple - justice and truth; Wisteria tree - Fujioka, virginity; Sharing an umbrella - protection and love; Entering a door - sexual transition; Wooden - order from chaos; House - feminine symbol of protection, the inner life; Being shoeless - liberty; Crimson comforter - love, life, sex; Gold trimming - protective containment; Fireplace - desire to be loved; French kiss - need to be honest emotionally; Enjoyable sex - good omen.

* * *

Eyes Closed by The Narrative [Kyoya-centric]

The clouds hold  
A storm over this road.  
You're dreaming  
Or at least you've got your eyes closed.  
And this dormant love you've built  
Inside your stubborn ways;  
Well, its begging now for air  
On the sudden breath of change.

As these waves crash against the highway cliffs,  
I'm so scared they'll flood me where I sit.  
When the roads they change to waterways,  
They never carry home.

You pull back  
And you angle towards the window.  
Now the rain is crashing down  
And, oh my god, you're beautiful.  
And I'm so unsated; still, I pray you'll hold back your escape.  
Yeah, we still got time  
And in my mind these bends could be steered straight.

As these waves crash against the highway cliffs,  
I'm so scared they'll flood me where I sit.  
When the roads they change to waterways,  
They never carry home.

Well, I'm sorry for the things I had to say.  
And I'm sorry I...  
I pushed your hand away from the radio.

I pushed your hand away from the radio.

I should have just let it go.


	25. Candlelight

Ryoji stares out the window of the dark Bentley as it wends its way homeward. If he wasn't so irritated with himself, he might actually enjoy the experience, but he'd stumbled and embarrassed Haruhi not once, but several times tonight and though she doesn't bear grudges, he knows she's serious about not speaking to him for…maybe not a week…but at least for the rest of the night.

He glances over at the two adolescents sitting side-by-side, Haruhi's head dropped onto Kyoya's shoulder as Kyoya's own tips against hers. His daughter's eyes are open but unfocused, while Kyoya's are closed, one set of hands entwined between them. Ryoji's thoughts turn, as they often do when pondering what course to take as a parent, to the one who still claims his heart.

 _You're right, Kotoko. I should have just trusted her; she's a sensible girl. It was those darned Hitachiin boys. Yes, I could have refused to go, but who knows what they would have done, then. If only I'd been more careful or the twins less obvious._ He sighs. _But if I hadn't gone, I wouldn't have seen what I saw and know what I now know: that Suoh Tamaki couldn't figure out his way out of a paper bag, let alone "the closet." This requires subtlety, not my strongest point, especially when it involves Haruhi. I don't know what Kyoya knows or doesn't know, but he knows something. So, if not me, who else is going to help them get a clue? I just can't sit by and do nothing when my little girl is in the middle of it all._

And as he ruminates, the evening's events replay in his mind...

 **...** The door to the Fujioka apartment closes behind the young couple and Ryoji positions himself to see what Haruhi and Kyoya are doing just beyond the kitchenette window. He notes the way the young scion looks at his daughter and though he can't hear his words, he sees the way Haruhi lifts her face, holding his breath until they move apart and down the stairs without locking lips before releasing. A small sound of acknowledgement voices itself at the back of his throat.

 _Our little girl is turning sixteen. It's time she started dating and Kyoya is certainly a "catch," but he's still very much a male whose primary objective is now our daughter's affections, among other things._ It's a distressing thought and one Ryoji tries to set aside, remembering that Kyoya has been raised to be a gentleman…or has he? _Maybe the sons of wealth are more presumptuous about satisfying their appetites; maybe Kyoya thinks my Haruhi will be easily persuaded or simply fair game as a commoner; maybe…._ He feels his pressure rising.

"All clear?" comes two voices from behind the now unsettled man who starts and turns to face two identical faces, both staring out the window, just as he was.

"They're gone," Ryoji says as he crosses his arms over his chest and taps his fingers against his arms.

"Finally," states Kaoru in exaggerated mode. "I was getting claustrophobic."

"Gone where?" Hikaru asks, looking decidedly glum.

Ryoji regards the boy with an unexpected pang of empathy for his relegated position of "big brother," but glad that Haruhi decided to steer clear of the wily pair as romantic interests. They simply had too much growing up to do to say nothing of their unnatural closeness - real or imagined.

"The ballet," he answers offhandedly, his thoughts still on Haruhi, and then he's onto them. "Why?"

"At the National?" Kaoru continues to pry and Ryoji nods. "Our family has season tickets for that, you know," the ginger pronounces, looking pointedly at Hikaru before returning his focus to Ryoji, who holds up his hands at him.

"No, no. I promised Haruhi I wouldn't follow them and I'm not going to do that. No."

The twins give one another a knowing look, having heard similar denials in a similar manner from a certain petite brunette multiple times over the course of the past year. They circle the man from either side, hands on hips, backs slightly bent over so they can look up into Ryoji's face with their most devious Hitachiin expressions.

Hikaru begins. "Surely, you don't intend to let Haruhi out with the Shadow King without a proper escort, do you?"

"Why, it's simply unthinkable," Kaoru adds.

Ryoji's head draws back and his eyes shift from one twin to the other. "The…Ssshhadow King?" He's heard a few of Kyoya's nicknames, but not this. "What do you mean?" Both twins stand erect and toss out mirror-images of a hand, palm up.

"Tamaki-senpai may be the figurehead of the Host Club…" Kaoru says, "but Kyoya-senpai runs the show."

"And we've seen him in action with the ladies - nothing is left to chance," adds Hikaru.

"And remember," Kaoru says. "Part of being a host is being charming and charismatic - a perfect gentleman."

"Until he's not," finishes Hikaru, satisfied at being able to cast his rival in a dubious light.

Ryoji's eyes widen. _I never considered Kyoya might be using his hosting skills on me. Maybe on Haruhi, too, the smarmy bastard. I'll kill him._

The twins stand on either side of him, speaking low in turn and then as one. "We have a car nearby…they'll never know…but you will." Their sweetest smiles and most persuasive voices accompany their devilish plans and Ryoji's common sense fades in the wake of images of Haruhi pinned down against her will in the backseat of a limousine.

"Alright!" he finally says. "We're going to follow them!" He takes a single step towards his jacket hanging on a peg, then pauses, vanity claiming him. "But first I have to find something to wear, and what about you two? You can't go to the theater dressed like that."

"Like what?" Hikaru asks, genuinely confused. "These outfits are cutting edge in the Hitachiin Young and Daring Nights Collection."

"Retailing at 125,000 yen apiece, if you count the accessories," Kaoru appends.

"Yeah, and remember…we don't follow trends, we create them," Hikaru boasts, clearly proud of their outrageous sense of style.

"Fine," Ryoji concedes, "but I'm going to change."

"Make it fast," they chime together.

Fast is an understatement when it comes to Fujioka Ryoji. The master of the quick-change is dressed, coiffed and ready to go in five minutes flat, entering his bedroom as Ryoji and emerging as Ranka - a feat that leaves the twins agape.

"How'd you do that?" queries a dazzled Kaoru. "It takes us at least an hour to get ready on school mornings and we're guys."

Ryoji's Ranka persona is firmly in place, complete with higher vocal tone and dramatic body language. "I'm an entertainer, remember? Two shows nightly with costume changes between numbers."

"Lucky for us and you look great!" compliments Hikaru. "Now let's go."

They hustle down the stairs to the waiting luxury SUV parked around the corner, the trio fairly throwing themselves into the back seat of the silver vehicle that swings into traffic as the twins urge their driver to "step on it." They all keep an eye out for the Bentley, its current trajectory easy to follow as the Fujioka's apartment sits on a One-Way street that leads to another One-Way street. It's a long shot, but not impossible, as their chauffeur does his best to be careful, yet aggressive as a driver. Finally, they spot their target.

"That's the car, Tanaka-san," Hikaru calls forward to the driver.

"Follow it, but don't look like you're following it," commands Kaoru.

"Yes, young Lords," replies the middle-aged chauffeur. He's reliable and discreet with a penchant for fine cigars, the likes of which the twins fund on a regular basis in return for his cooperation in their regular schemes.

Traffic is a snarl, but when the dark car ahead of them swerves out of lane, so do they and several others, allowing them to follow without being tagged as stalkers. When the Bentley finally pulls to the curb, the driver slowly glides past the vehicle and as the three snoops duck down, they spy Hotta driving.

"Do a U-ey," orders Kaoru and the chauffeur seamlessly pulls into the inner lane and executes a neat U-turn. He curbs the vehicle a little ways down from the front of the hotel, but within sight. Three heads peer out the rear windshield to see Tachibana opening the back door to let out Kyoya, followed by Haruhi.

Ranka watches the couple, then glances at the elegant signage above them, eyes squinting as he finally acknowledges the structure's nature.

"Whaat?" he cries, leaning forward, then suddenly pivoting, pushing Kaoru back to yank the door latch open. "He's a dead man!" Ranka shouts, body beginning to fall out of the car.

"Hikaru, help me!" Kaoru calls out to his brother who assists in pulling Ranka back into the vehicle.

"What are you doing, you idiots?" he snarls. "That Lothario is taking my Haruhi into a hotel, for kami-sama's sake!"

They struggle to keep him still, Kaoru grunting, "There are restaurants inside, too!"

"Kyoya-senpai isn't that stupid or I'd kill him myself," adds Hikaru, locking arms with his twin to keep Ranka in their stronghold until he stops struggling.

"Let me out of this vehicle right now!" the man-on-a-mission demands.

"Not unless we can go with you," they bargain in unison.

"Listen to me, you two…quasi-deviants-"

"Hey!" Kaoru objects.

"You sound just like the Boss," adds Hikaru.

"The Boss? You mean Tamaki, right? Haruhi has mentioned _that_ nickname, but don't you dare compare me to that moron."

"They're so much alike," Hikaru says in disbelief.

"It's frightening," Kaoru clarifies and they begin to laugh.

Ranka allows them their inside joke, taking the opportunity to break free of their slackened hold on him. _Imagine comparing me to that inane blond who calls_ _my_ _little girl_ _his_ _little girl, the dolt. But, no - can't get side-tracked by these two butterflies._ He employs his natural voice to get their attention and their respect. "I am Haruhi's father and I'm going to find out what's going on…alone."

"But we want to see what happens," they continue to beg.

"Not a chance or I'm sending you home."

They pout in tandem but allow Ranka to trail Haruhi and Kyoya who he spies in the vast lobby, speaking with a young woman before heading into the elevator. He waits, breathing deeply to center himself, until the same car returns with the same attendant that took the pair upstairs. He steps into the empty cab and throws a coquettish smile at the uniformed, older gentleman.

"Excuse me, dear man," he begins. "My dau- erm- son and his friend just went ahead and I'm not sure on which floor they disembarked. Tall, good-looking boy and a shorter, adorable one? Can you help me?" The transvestite winks and the attendant's mouth quirks, but doesn't drop open.

"Of course, sir," the attendant nods while clearing his throat.

"You know," Ranka continues as the doors slide shut, "I'm really not sure about the restaurant we're patronizing tonight..." His voice trails off.

"I believe I heard Ootori-sama mention _Lotus_ , madam; a fine choice as it's one of the best eateries in town."

"Really? You recognized him?"

"The Ootori often dine here, though your son's friend is usually with the son of this hotel's owner."

"My, but you're so knowledgeable, though I'm sure you know everything there is to know about this hotel. Staff usually does." The attendant's back straightens and tongue loosens under the influence of flattery from a younger, and quite attractive, "woman."

"Joining your son and his friend for dinner, eh? That's nice."

"Yes, it's a reunion, of sorts. You're sure they were going to the restaurant and not a private suite?"

"Fairly sure, madam."

"You see, and I'm sorry to be such a worry-wort, but my son is a 1st-year at Ouran Academy and I want to be sure his companions are suitable. You understand," he says with a perfectly tweezed brow perfectly arched and a manicured hand on the man's sleeve.

The attendant lowers his voice despite the fact that he and Ranka are the elevator's only occupants. "Well," he says sotto voce, "the Ootori are a pre-eminent family, but the latest buzz is that Ootori Senior has just been caught philandering again."

"You mean the father of-"

"The one who's with your boy right now."

"Oh dear, how dreadful for the family." Ranka's compassion is stirred and his ire diminished towards Kyoya, who must know this yet face his peers at school each day with equanimity. _That can't be easy._

"I really shouldn't comment, but if you're looking into the backgrounds of your son's friends, you might consider that fact, not that it says anything about the young man, of course, but it does seem odd that the son of a known philanderer is best of friends with a boy who, it's rumored, is a love-child himself. You'd think otherwise."

Ranka hums in a non-committal way as he digests the information he's just heard, his database about the Host Club expanding to include the fact that Suoh Tamaki's family owns the hotel he's in and that the blond has secrets like anyone else. He's about to ask another question when the elevator tone sounds. As the doors slide open to reveal guests waiting to enter, the attendant shifts back into professional mode. "This is your floor, madam. Have a good evening."

"Thank you," Ranka replies, a bit disconcerted. "I'll keep your words in mind." He steps out into the elevator's waiting area and sees the ornate doors to _Lotus_ at his left.

He was right about the staff knowing everything. It's the same at the okama bar. The wealthy and powerful rarely pay attention to those they consider their underlings and news is leaked without them even being aware of it. _Usually when they've had a few and then they wonder who started the rumors. Damn rich people._

He enters the regal establishment feeling totally under-dressed and ruing the fact. _I knew I should've worn the charmeuse. Well, at least_ _this_ _is couture, even if it is vintage._ He touches the soutache frog closures of his black woolen capelet trimmed with mink.

Unsure of where he's going to be seated, if at all, Ranka heads around the bend to where the Reservations host waits at his podium with his meticulously kept Reservations book, filled with the names of the elite, wealthy and powerful. Much to his surprise, he recognizes the twenty-something as an occasional patron of the okama bar. _Thank you, kami-sama._ The young man's eyes light up upon seeing Ranka and he gives the transvestite a sly smile.

"Well, well," the receptionist coos. "I don't think I've ever seen you here before. Meeting someone?"

"Yes, my- son and his friend. They just arrived so you must have seen them."

"You have a son?" the younger man queries, as if it's impossible.

"Disappointed?"

"Well…I thought you were, you know, available."

Ryoji mutters an obscenity under his breath, then slips back into his role. "But I most certainly am…it's Saburo-san, right?" The young man nods, pleased that Ranka remembers his name. "I'm just another single-parent trying to make it in the world and, you see, my son is inside with a friend and I'm not really sure what kind of boy his friend is, so…."

"You're spying?" He says it as if it's a true espionage mission.

"Won't you help me? I'll be sure to pay you special attention the next time you visit Club Wasabi."

No further enticement is required. Saburo seats him at a tiny table suitable for the rare solo diner tucked into a corner that's the perfect vantage point from which Ranka can see Haruhi's face and the back of Kyoya's head. Beyond, lies the breath-taking view of Tokyo but he barely notices as he orders an appetizer and sake, then sips at his cucumber-minted water.

Watching Haruhi share easy conversation, delicacies and warm looks with her companion, Ranka realizes that the last year has wrought many changes in the little girl who is no longer so little.

_She looks happy, Kotoko, and she_ _is_ _sixteen. She should be dating, but what kind of future can there be for these two? I like him, but I'm sure he'll be engaged to some socialite before he starts college and Haruhi will be heart-broken, if they even last that long. Oh, listen to me. It's just a date, but something tells me it's not casual for either of them. She's made up her mind and you know Haruhi when she makes up her mind…_

Eleven years ago…

Haruhi is squirming, just as she always does when Kotoko fixes her hair. "Mommy, stop. I don't like bows in my hair."

"But Haru-chan, don't you want to look cute?"

"I don't care about cute. I just want to go to school."

"And you are but please, let me decorate your hair."

Haruhi turns her head to look up at her mom, professionally dressed in a crisp two-piece business suit with her hair pinned up.

"Why can't I wear my hair like yours?"

Kotoko touches the back of her sleek coiffure. "Like mine? Don't be silly. You're just a little girl."

"But I'll be able to do that when I'm older, right?"

"Of course you will."

"I'll be just like you with short hair."

"Fine."

"So make it look like yours now, okay?" Kotoko regards her stubborn daughter. Always an argument about what to wear, how to fix her hair, about everything.

"You know, Haruhi, one day you're going to make a very good lawyer."

"Like you?"

Kotoko chuckles and taps Haruhi on the nose. "Just like me. Now turn around and let me do this."

Haruhi is content, now that Kotoko is pulling her hair off her face and into a pony-tail, complete with red ribbon to match her red-and-white school uniform…

_That's our girl, Kotoko, and I want her to be happy. I know you watch over us both, but can't you just send me a sign that you know everything will be alright?_

He thoroughly enjoys the takoyaki and okonomiyaki combo and sips sake. Seeing Haruhi enjoy whatever it is they've ordered delights him nearly as much. She fairly sparkles under Kyoya's attentions. As he finishes pouring out the last of his wine into his cup, he sees Tamaki approach Haruhi's table. All the Hosts are attractive, but Tamaki's unusual features make him stand out in any crowd. The boy is even more handsome dressed for dinner and there's something about him that makes the hairs on the back of Ranka's neck stand on end. It's happened every time he's met Tamaki, only he's always pushed the feelings aside, until now. _Haruhi seems happy to see him, but Kyoya is wary. Is he jealous?_

Watching the interplay between the teens, it's clear that three's a definite crowd, but who is jealous of whom? Haruhi's beauty is understated but genuine, both inside and out, and he can easily imagine both of the young men seated with her vying for her favor. Kyoya's interest is blatantly clear and he thinks about what the twins said earlier. Tamaki has always been fond of Haruhi but he calls her his daughter - a bit weird, but not unheard of between good friends of opposite gender in Japan. But, what else might it be, if that's not the case?

A seed is planted in Ranka's mind and when Tamaki puts his hands on Kyoya's shoulders and he sees the older boy's reaction to the affectionate touch, the seed begins to sprout. _Could it be that Tamaki's not jealous of Kyoya, but of…Haruhi? Could that be?_ Ranka knows better than to jump to conclusions, especially since Tamaki's upbringing in France makes him prone to European mannerisms and tastes, tendencies which are sometimes seen as vaguely feminine. _So is he gay or European?_ _That is the question._

Still, the more he watches, the more he sees; and the more he sees, the more convinced he is that his instincts are on target. _Tamaki is probably homosexual, but does he know it? Does Kyoya? Does Haruhi? Does it matter?_ And though Ranka is loathe to go where a lifetime's experience is pointing, he can't help but think, _It only matters if Tamaki thinks he stands a chance with Kyoya_ and another seed is planted, this one more troubling. Kyoya's reactions to the blond's presence and attentions have been odd - dismissive yet accepting. It's nothing atypical between close girlfriends, but unlikely between guys, no matter how tolerant they are. _I could be wrong, but…_

He sees Haruhi stand and overhears her berating both young men to make amends with one another. _So, there's contention between them. Over what?_ He hears the answer in his mind before he can stifle it. _Over their relationship_? A sough of breath escapes him and he closes his eyes briefly.

When they reopen, Kyoya has walked away and Haruhi is speaking softly to Tamaki before following, leaving the blond looking forlorn. And for the second time that evening, Ranka experiences another pang of empathy, realizing how wrong he's been about Tamaki and how it felt to him when _he_ first realized that he preferred not just women, but men as well, which was scared, alone and confused.

A debonair man slightly older than himself approaches the boy and though they don't resemble one another, Ranka immediately knows that the man is Tamaki's father _. Tamaki is gay and a love-child? Talk about complicated._ Father and son leave together and Ranka is left with his thoughts and a bill.

_I've always been discreet, Kotoko, but Haruhi accepts my lifestyle choice. The questions now are: what's happening between these three friends and how will it affect our Haruhi? It's clear that Kyoya cares about her, but Tamaki may be a loose cannon. And boys their age do crazy things. I know I did. Have_ _they? Are they? Or is it_ _mere flirting…with disaster? At Haruhi's expense?_

Ranka sits a bit longer, anxious to leave but hoping for some clarity. Kotoko may be gone over a decade, but she's not out of their lives. Besides keeping her shrine, his esoteric beliefs hold that the departed can and do make themselves known to the living - on occasion. It may be wishful thinking, but at critical moments in his life while raising their daughter, he's asked Kotoko for help or reassurance and, somehow, she's always come through for him.

He stares at the single candle in its crystal flower at the center of the table. It burns with a steady light and within its glow he imagines Kotoko's face watching him with loving eyes as he silently communes. _Tell me, koibito. Haruhi is the light of my life. I won't let anyone take advantage of her or hurt her. Just let me know that you'll continue to watch over her...over us.  
_

He leaves payment along with a generous tip beside the bill. He's about to stand and head back to the SUV, when a soft breeze wafts through the dining room. There's no likely reason for it and Ranka sits very still as he watches the candle's flame flicker and spit, then suddenly flare with great intensity and brightness for several seconds before returning to its normal shape and size.

_Thank you, Kotoko. Thank you._

End - Chapter 25 - Candlelight

* * *

Candlelight by Relient K [Ryoji-centric]

To know her is to love her.  
I'm going undercover  
To catch a glimpse, but not get caught.  
But to see her could be worse  
If I don't get my head straight first.  
On second thought, I guess I'll not.

She's almost brighter than the Sun.  
Seems to me to be unfair  
When you consider everyone  
Who pales when they compare.  
(When they compare).

CHORUS:  
Can't hold a candle to her  
'Cause all the moths get in the way;  
And they'll begin to chew her  
Entire attire until it frays.  
She outshines anyone  
Who ever might dare to bask  
In the same candlelight.

Oh, please don't seat us in the back  
With all the insects and the trash.  
She is a lady (I'm the tramp),  
Collecting stares from pairs close by.  
Then flutters in a butterfly;  
Eww - just a moth drawn to the lamp.

She's like an ancient artifact;  
Something you're lucky to have found.  
She'll pinch the nerves in all the necks  
When she turns those heads around.  
(Those heads around).

CHORUS +  
(Who may dare to bask in the same candlelight).

She's almost brighter than the Sun.  
Seems to me to be unfair  
When you consider everyone  
Who pales when they compare.  
(When they compare).

CHORUS+  
(In the same candlelight).


	26. In the Veins

Ootori Yoshio stands with his hands behind his back beside the curved glass of his study window overlooking the circular driveway at the front of the mansion. Below, Yuuichi is exiting the house and heading towards the late-model sportscar he'd arrived in. Before getting into the vehicle, he glances up at the very window where Yoshio stands and bows in farewell. Yoshio simply nods. _A good son is Yuuichi - he'll make a fine patriarch after I'm gone. Just the type of person this family needs to keep the Ootori name highly ranked among the elite._

The eldest Ootori son has just spent the last hour in his father's book-lined study, Kyoya sitting quietly on the blue divan he'd favored as a child for reading or studying, despite having a bedroom suite larger than many homes. The house is quiet on a Sunday night, or it should be. Fuyumi and Hiroshi had come for dinner, just as they do every weekend, to allow Yoshio to see Kenshin, his grandson, but the toddler's bedtime meant leaving at a reasonable hour.

Yet, as soon as Fuyumi heard about her younger brother's episode, she called in a panic and insisted on returning, which Yoshio forbade as impractical and unnecessary. The patriarch stands now, like a king in a castle turret, surveying his domain and pondering his legacy.

 _I have four children. Two of them are successful, having followed my advice and living by the guidelines I set for them. Akito has fallen into line, at last, and once he's married, he'll settle down further. As for the other two?_ He huffs to himself. _Fuyumi is bright, but sentimental, a potential head of one of the Ootori Group's smaller subsidiaries, in time. Instead, she married young and had a child. Hiroshi is tolerable and Kenshin is a fine boy, but I expected more from my daughter. Kyoya is the brightest of them all, but I never quite know what he's thinking and he only listens to my words marginally. If only Kazu hadn't spoiled him._

Yoshio watches Yuuichi's car disappear behind the copse of bare ginko trees that shield the house from the rest of the winding drive that makes its way through a quarter-mile of parklike property before hitting the immense iron gates that define the entrance at the main road. _Privacy from the world-at-large is achieved at a high cost and yet, somehow, the media always manages to invade mine. Damn journalists and their nosiness - gossip columnists or otherwise. What kind of damage control will I have to do next?_

He turns and heads to the mahogany desk his father had commissioned decades before, running his fingers over the warm hand-finished wood from Africa, the desktop inlaid with leather, jade and ivory. He likes to keep his desktop clear of clutter except for his laptop, his favorite cognac and a simple reading lamp.

The rest of the study is elegant, reflecting shibui style that blends modern and antique furnishings, along with relics from the Ootori history - the most valuable being an ancient manuscript written by a forebear on the care and treatment of illnesses afflicting the imperial household. The family tree is rife with members of historical note in the fields of medicine and business, Yoshio's lineage stemming from the latter.

In addition to the artifacts that fill and decorate the shelves that line the entire room are his books, each one read cover to cover on all manner of subjects. And it is in this room where he would often find Kyoya in his boyhood, reading anything and everything he could get his hands on. And so it was allowed, even when no one else was permitted in this, his sacrosanct domain…

"Kyoya, what are you reading today?"

The large-eyed boy looks up from the thick book in his lap. He is no more than eight, but already reading well-beyond his grade-level. Yoshio sees the book is about world religions.

"Father, how can there be so many different ways of thinking, yet each one claims to be the only truth?"

"What do you think of that?"

"I think it's confusing."

"Which is why the wise man learns about them all."

"To learn which one is true?"

"To learn how people think, my son. Knowing what a person believes without question is the key to influencing them."

"I see, but I have a question."

"About?"

"The Bible."

"Ah. Last week it was the Koran, wasn't it? So, what is your question?"

"Mother says it's a path, but it doesn't make sense."

"Where does it fail you? Stand and tell me your analysis."

The boy sets the book aside and stands upright with his hands at his side. "The Christian book says the creator knows all yet created man and woman with free-will."

"And?"

"They fail, but if the creator knows everything, the creator knew they would fail all along. How can that be free-will?"

"An excellent question, Kyoya. What do you think?"

"I think I need to consider this more."

"Then do so and we'll speak again when you're ready."

Kyoya was given privileges to read any book in his father's library provided he cared for the book properly, read it completely and could provide his sire with a summary of what he read, to the best of his ability. In that regard, he never disappointed.

 _Certainly, he's surpassed his brothers at similar ages, though I'll never say so aloud._ _Such a fine mind, but capricious. It's the Suoh boy that's his downfall. Who'd have thought he could sway my youngest from the course I'd plotted and he'd followed without question - until they met. Had I known… And tonight, that capriciousness has caused many people to be put out of their way. It cannot be tolerated._

Yoshio turns to face his son, who seems paler than usual, though this doesn't surprise. _Perhaps tomorrow will be better for an extended chat. There are still facts to be gathered about his weekend activities._

"Kyoya," he begins and watches his son's eyes lift to his. They're brownish-gray, like his own. Kyoya resembles his father more than any of his other children, but that's where the similarities between father and son end. _What goes on in that head of yours?_ "There are several things we need to discuss, but after your episode earlier this evening, I don't want to belabor things with you right now. You have school tomorrow."

"Yes, Father. I have no intention of missing that." Kyoya rises and faces his sire before pushing his glasses back. "I've apologized to Yuuichi for taking him away from his patients at the hospital because of my lack of foresight. I will apologize to Akito shortly and to Fuyumi, tomorrow, for causing needless worry."

"Anything else?"

Kyoya pauses and takes in a breath through his nose, holding it a second before releasing some tension, eyes narrowing only the tiniest bit with annoyance he dare not display. "And to you, sir, for intruding on your evening. I know you like to catch up on your reading on Sunday nights and I'm sure you will remain awake until your requirement is met."

"Indeed. One must never shirk one's responsibilities, Kyoya, either to oneself or to others." Yoshio waits and watches for his son's reaction to that statement knowing that his children, like most of Tokyo society, know more about his personal life than Yoshio prefers. Sheer will and audacity carried him above the latest scandal and he's been more careful since. _At least they're no longer children and, certainly, the boys should understand a man's needs_.

oOoOo

Self-discipline and host training keep Kyoya from rolling his eyes at the hypocrisy that spills from his father's lips, but reacting would simply make the man the victor of the latest battle in a subtle war that's raged between them over the last year. _Yes, you're a responsible man in business but you've failed in your obligation to my mother more than once and so, to all of us._ _Am I the only one disturbed by this?_

Yoshio says nothing further, but simply turns away, their meeting over. Kyoya squares his shoulders and leaves the study, making his way to the second floor of the enormous house and into the wing where his bedroom is located. Akito's wing lay at the opposite end of the long corridor that separates their suites, his door ajar, light spilling onto the vintage Chinese runner lining the hallway.

He pauses and reverses direction, heading towards the open door and entering the suite. Like his own, it's bi-level, but opposite in layout, Akito preferring to keep his sleeping quarters below and everything else above. Both areas are impossible for the maids to keep tidy as his brother is prone to leaving things wherever they end up when he's done with them.

It's nearly midnight and instead of sleeping, Akito is sitting cross-legged in a pair of flannel pajama pants, surrounded by textbooks and papers, his laptop appropriately sitting in his lap and the eyeglasses he only wears at home, perched on the end of his nose. Kyoya pauses and leans one shoulder against the wall, trying to determine if he should interrupt his brother's studies or simply go to bed.

He's about to follow his second thought when Akito finally says, without looking up, "Where were you tonight? Fuyumi kept asking and I didn't know what to tell her."

"I was out with…a friend."

"Suoh-san? How's the idiot doing?"

"Akito," Kyoya warns with a sharp look. _Pissed as I may be at Tamaki, he's still my best friend. And why are you playing coy, brother? You already know who I was with from Yuuichi._

The second eldest Ootori looks up at his younger brother and grins, knowing just how to push Kyoya's buttons. He's been doing it for years. "Why you stick with that crazy guy is beyond me. I know Father put you up to it, but you could have ditched him long ago."

Kyoya enters the room, sloughing off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. As he approaches Akito's bed, he stops to drop his head onto one shoulder, then the other listening to the crackling that sounds release. "Tamaki and I are friends. You understand friendship, don't you?"

Akito shrugs. "An illusory experience, if you ask me, especially when you're in graduate school trying to secure the top spot. Nobody is your friend, then - just your competition."

Kyoya sits down on the mattress on the side farthest from his brother, turning at the waist to continue their conversation. "Since when? I thought you found competition irritating."

"C'mon, Brother. You know better than anyone that it's exciting, especially when you know you're going to win. And we always do." Akito puts his laptop aside and lights a cigarette.

Kyoya waves away the blue smoke that wafts his way. "You know," he says, "for a smart guy, you're a dumbass."

"My lungs, my choice. So how is Suoh-san? Still nipping at your heels for Top of the Class?" Akito's brow wrinkles at the way Kyoya grows pensive. "What is it?"

"I wasn't with Tamaki and you know that."

"Ye-ah, I do. So…has Piano Man been replaced?"

"Not replaced," Kyoya answers quickly, then pauses. "I had a date."

Akito's eyes light up. "Re-allly? I'm proud of you, Kyo. I wondered for awhile. Thought you kept all those adoring girls at arm's length to be mys-terrr-ious." He draws out the last word.

Kyoya actually rolls his eyes then. "Don't be an asshole." _And ju_ s _t what do you mean by you wondered for awhile?_

Akito takes another long drag then snuffs out the cancerstick in a cut-crystal bowl beside the bed. He shifts onto his side, extending his legs and casually pushing his textbooks towards the bottom of the bed, his head propped on his fist. The younger Ootori falls onto his back with his hands behind his head, staring at the trompe l'oeil ceiling that gives the impression of a dome. Neither of them speak and Kyoya's nose takes in the lingering odor of burnt tobacco. He tried smoking once for the experience, but found it unpalatable. Still, the scent is intriguing.

"So what's she like? Did you score?" comes his brother's voice after a few silent seconds of simple companionship.

"Unlike you, Akito, I don't pounce."

"But you wanted to, eh? You just don't want to admit it."

Kyoya's head shifts slightly to see his brother's eyes. "She's a nice girl and we had a nice evening, even if it was short-circuited at the end."

"No goodnight kiss, then?" Akito gives a little moue.

 _Wouldn't you love to know?_ Kyoya says nothing about his exploratory afternoon with Haruhi, but his expression must be tell-tale.

Akito regards him with a wry smile and says, "So that's how it is." He leans forward, his head nearing his brother's. "Didn't mean to offend. What's her name?"

"Haruhi." Kyoya pauses, considering their agreement to keep her gender secret. _But what's the point after tonight?_ "She's a 1st-year honor student."

"Sounds about right. Who are her parents?"

"Does that matter?"

"You know it does…" Akito's voice trails off and Kyoya waits, already knowing what's going to be said next. "We have to be careful about how we come across to people."

Kyoya rolls onto his side, mirroring in reverse his brother's position. His voice remains low, but his ire is clear. "And why is that? Why do we have to be model citizens when our father behaves badly? Are we supposed to be some sort of redeeming factor - the Ootori boys, perfect in every way? I'm really sick of it."

"It is what it is. Let it go. The situation has been over for awhile and our mother has forgiven him."

"Again." The frustrated surrender in Kyoya's voice is obvious.

"She always does."

The conversation has turned uncomfortable and their parents' incongruous, albeit routine, behavior is a sore subject they usually avoid. Yoshio's dalliances have been a source of anger for Kyoya since he was old enough to understand the pain they caused, yet his mother continues to remain married to the man.

 _This is modern day Japan. No one would fault her for leaving him and she has money of her own. It doesn't make sense and I don't understand it._ "Is she coming home soon?"

"Fuyumi spoke with her yesterday and she's going to stay in Switzerland a little while longer. She's always liked Interlaken. News from home reaches her in small doses and without the gossip-hounds dogging her every move."

Kyoya sits up, pushes at his glasses and looks at his brother. "What does her doctor say?"

"Ask Fuyumi. She knows the details of her treatment better than I do."

"I'll ask Yuuichi. I don't want to upset Fuyumi any more than she is already. Anyway, I'm tired and I have school tomorrow."

"No rest for the weary, eh?"

"No sympathy, either."

"That's our father."

"Indeed," Kyoya replies, icy in tone.

"He's not a monster, Kyo. Just a man."

"Don't defend his behavior by rationalizing, Akito. It's disgusting."

"Have it your way, then, and be sullen and angry with him."

"I will. I am."

"It won't change him and the bitterness only hurts _you_."

"How do you tolerate it? Yuuchi's silence I can buy. He has everything to gain by it and everything to lose by opposing him, but you? You should be defending our mother."

"And what do you think that will accomplish, huh? Mother has accepted this as his way and she'll never grant nor ask for a divorce. It's not her style."

"No, she just needs _vacations_ in the Alps when things get out of hand."

"She's a grown woman and makes her own decisions."

"Are you so sure about that?"

"What are you talking about? Who else has the ability to persuade her?"

"Yuuichi, with our father's blessing."

"You should be careful when making accusations, Kyoya."

"He's a brilliant psychiatrist who's trained in Switzerland under our mother's doctor. The Ootori Family has donated millions to the facility where her personal cottage is ever at the ready. It would be simple enough for her meds to be manipulated-"

"Enough!" Akito's attitude has turned suddenly abrupt and angry.

 _Dammit! I've gone too far and said too much._ Kyoya stands. "Forget I said anything, alright?" With his back to his brother, he adds, "I'm going to bed."

"Do you need something to help you fall asleep?"

"No, thank you. I've had enough issues surrounding medications for one day." Kyoya heads towards the door, stopping to grab his jacket off the chair.

"I'm talking herbal; something simple and pure."

Kyoya stops without turning around. "That's your remedy, not mine."

He nears the door to the corridor when he hears Akito's voice, softer and gentler calling, "Little brother?"

"What is it?"

"Are you going to see her again?"

"Who?" For a moment, Kyoya is confused.

"The girl, moron."

Kyoya turns half-way in place so Akito sees his profile. And despite his desire to stay firm in his self-righteousness, a slow unwitting smile claims him. "Yeah, I am. She still thinks I'm worthy, in spite of everything."

"That sounds promising. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with, if you know what I mean."

"Shut up, pervert."

Akito chuckles to himself and Kyoya merely shakes his head, leaving his somewhat reckless but supportive sibling behind. Akito's idea of help, of course, is supplying contraceptives, weed, and a willing ear for the juicy details - none of the above being anything Kyoya has ever or will ever ask of him, though his remark about something simple and pure resonates in his mind as he heads across the house to his own suite.

_Something simple and pure would be Haruhi. As for a goodnight kiss, it didn't happen - not with Ryoji-san present, but there will be other opportunities and my memory is excellent._

As he heads towards his bedroom, his recollections begin: of Haruhi as she looked when she first opened her door this afternoon, then later dressed to the nines and later still, when her androgynous look slid into the feminine. He still hears her laughter and her scolding at dinner and can almost feel her in his arms and recall the taste of her on his lips, making him yearn for her again _. How can I take it slow when I want her so badly?_

He enters his suite and commands the lights to dim as he undresses, his jacket tossed onto one of the white leather sofas, followed by his pullover. The décor of the suite is far too modern for his liking, but he doesn't care enough to bother changing it. The lacquered loveseat that stands beside his wall-to-wall wardrobe upstairs is more his taste - a true antique that appeals to his visual nature and appreciation of history. There, the immaculate white shirt is laid across the back of the stylized piece, followed by trousers and socks. The Panerai is set back into its winding niche within one of the many haberdashery drawers.

He pads into the adjacent bath and strips off boxer-briefs to enter the shower stall that releases a perfectly-tempered spray onto his tired body as soon as the glass door snicks shut. As he stands beneath the soothing water, his jumbled thoughts: about Tamaki, about his family, about his studies, about the week to come and how he will manage it all are pushed aside until a single image is situated in his mind. It's Haruhi as she looked when he first saw her without the jacket, the bustier and perfectly-cut trousers hugging her modest curves.

Holding the image, he presses a hand against the marble tile and wraps the other around his already semi-erect cock. A few expert pulls and he's turgid, doing what he should have done before he'd ever left the house tonight. Images and sounds play perforce as he strokes, seeing only Haruhi and himself, naked and pressed together in his bed amidst mountains of fluffy turquoise and red blankets, his focus locked onto the sensations taking him further and deeper into his mind - memory enhancing fantasy.

Nothing matters for a while as he imagines her soft beneath him, hears the hitch of her breath and feels her heartbeat under his hand before it traces a line from her sternum downward, across the soft rise of her belly and the concave dip of her navel. Then lower, her innocence revealed in her quick response to his touch as he seeks her with fingers that caress and fondle, drawing from her soft cries of pleasure that are an aphrodisiac for him.

His hand becomes her hand on him and sensation heightens as he imagines her taking him higher. His imagination morphs the hand that slides with quick, sure movements on himself into the channel that is Haruhi's body. He strokes, despite his fatigue, needing to climax with her name on his lips, an affirmation that she is who he wants and no one and nothing else. Breath grows hard and even, fueling his mind and body as he feels the edge of climax approach and overtake him, cum spurting hot and potent into his hand and onto the tile. He prolongs it for as long as he can, mindlessly milking every last bit of seed as he almost, almost _feels_ her body against his. His mouth is open, water dappling his spine as the spasms that grip him ebb and roll through his body in milder waves and the shower spray rinses the evidence of his desire away.

He soaps up and rinses off, fatigue now claiming him in a major way. _Need sleep. Need Haruhi. Need…to talk…to Haruhi about the morning._ He keeps himself awake, toweling dry and donning the pajamas folded neatly on his pillow, bedcovers turned down just as they are every night for him. Padding on bare feet back to his wardrobe, he takes the phone out of its charging bin and begins to scan messages.

 _Tamaki has called umpteen times, but it'll keep. I just want to hear_ _her_ _voice again._ He crawls into the center of the bed and pulls the duvet up to his neck before settling back into the pillows at the headboard. A few swipes and he's looking at his friends' names on auto-dial, Tamaki sitting in the top spot. He regards the name with a mixture of feelings - care, concern and annoyance - then releases a breath. _We'll work it out, but here's how it is._ He taps on "Haruhi," then One and saves; "Tamaki" shifting into the second slot.

_If only reality was as simple._

His finger is still poised above the name of the girl who has suddenly and irrevocably taken up residence in the place he's kept separate and protected for so long - his heart. His fingertip drops and he waits as the call goes through. A few unanswered rings leaves him wondering if Haruhi hasn't turned her phone off for the night or she's asleep.

_It would be like her…_

"Kyoya? Are you okay?" Her voice is soft, concerned, and with his bodily needs sated and fatigue dulling his defenses, he allows himself to welcome the attachment he feels growing for the girl on the other end of the line.

"I am now."

End - Chapter 26 – In the Veins

* * *

In the Veins by Semisonic [Kyoya-centric]

Red is the ocean which we ride  
Carried along on a changing tide,  
Blind, blind rage and pure delight  
Running in the current side by side,  
Waiting for whatever we haven't tried.

Baby, it's amazing all the things a self contains.  
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.  
Be careful what you put in there.  
Be careful what you put in there.

Heaven transcendence; angels fly;  
Anger and vengeance; blue, blue sky (oh);  
All injected from the mind  
Down in the liquid world combined  
And your prescription has been signed.

Search the wild green outside and inside is what remains.  
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.  
Be careful what you put in there.

Wide open world there is no mind without you  
And a little bit is not enough.  
Wide open mind define the world about you.  
And a little world is not enough.  
And a little world is not enough.

Baby it's amazing all the things a self contains.  
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.  
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.  
Be careful what you put in there. (Repeat 6x)


	27. Keep Breathing

The snow that once covered the streets is altogether gone, leaving behind wet surfaces that, with the rapid drop in temperature, have iced over. Everything, organic and in-, is slowly being coated with glistening rime that follows every contour of branch and every nook and cranny of building, molding itself to the surfaces with deadly beauty. Haruhi appreciates the look of it but understands the danger.

 _I'm glad Hotta is such a careful driver. Even so, I'll be worried until I know Kyoya is safe and sound back home._ She feels Kyoya's head resting against her own and her heartstrings tug. _It's the second time today he's let himself be vulnerable with me and Kyoya just doesn't do vulnerable._ She realizes that the same notion could apply to herself and deliberately snuggles her cheek against his chest and squeezes his hand to prove herself wrong. A large hand with tapered fingers squeezes back and she smiles.

The Bentley pulls up close to the staircase that leads to the complex's second level. Tachibana exits the front seat and soon appears near their door, just as he has before; only this time, Haruhi finds it more comforting than strange. _Odd, the way perspective changes one's opinions._ Haruhi tips her head back to see Kyoya's face as the door opens, the movement and the rush of cold air rousing him. _His eyelashes are much too long for a guy._ His eyes behind his glasses flutter open and she sees the instant recognition there. _So gorgeous and so unfair._ "We're home," she says and he nods, humming agreement.

The air is clean and crisp, just as it was two weeks ago - the last time Kyoya had walked Haruhi to her door. The adolescents wait for Ryoji and Haruhi notices the maintenance man for their complex throwing halite onto the staircase as he descends from the second level. He pauses at the bottom of the staircase and greets them politely before continuing along the sidewalk in front of the building, within the brick perimeter.

Ryoji leaves the warmth of the car and while Haruhi is certain he wants to trail behind them, Kyoya gestures for him to precede them, a polite albeit calculated move. Ryoji acquiesces without a fuss. Haruhi begins to follow, but Kyoya keeps her by his side until the elder Fujioka is at least a dozen feet ahead of them - close but not too close. They climb slowly, hands joined between them while outside hands grip the railings for balance. She slips only once, at the very top of the steps, but Kyoya and Tachibana are there immediately, holding her up as she finds her footing.

"Are you alright?" Kyoya asks as Tachibana recedes.

"Fine," she says, then chortles.

"What is it?"

"I can't help but think that if you were Tamaki-senpai, you would have made some silly crack about falling for him."

"Then I would be foolish to do the same."

They watch one another without speaking until Ryoji's voice wafts over to them, "Haruhi?"

"I'm fine," she calls back. "I'll be right in." And the moment is past. Ryoji unlocks the entry to the apartment, pausing for a moment or two, then enters.

"Finally," Kyoya breathes. "I'll say this for your father, he's as protective as a mother bear with a cub."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I rather like knowing that he's watching over you so carefully. I'm not very different than him in that regard."

"But different enough…"

"To make a difference?" They softly chuckle together as they continue heading towards the door.

Much like two weeks prior, Haruhi fails to notice when Kyoya sends a subtle signal to Tachibana, telling him to keep his distance, but unlike then, she knows exactly what she wants from him when they reach her door and more importantly, she knows that he wants it, too. Memories of their embraces quicken her heartbeat and anticipation quickens her step.

Haruhi moves past the kitchen window and the closed apartment door. There, she stops and presses her back against the stone wall of the building. Kyoya faces her without hesitation and steps in. She lifts her face and he drops his own, pressing closer until her arms wrap around his waist and his hands grasp her shoulders, keeping her in place. With mouths slightly parted, they come together with a quiet urgency. Quick, feverish kisses are exchanged, Kyoya's mouth her quarry as she tries to tell him without words how differently she feels about him from even a few hours ago.

Somehow, with his armored defenses dropped even slightly tonight, she's glimpsed the difficult world in which he lives and her instincts tell her she's only scratched the surface. _I want to comfort you. Let me._ The cold air swirls around them, but Haruhi is certain that their bodies are much, much warmer. She can hardly tell who is kissing whom now, his lips lazily chasing hers as she does the same. _Am I addicted to you so quickly? Quickly and irrevocably._ His hands tighten their grip on her even as she tries to pull him closer.

Without warning, the outside light flicks on and they pull apart, certain Ryoji is about to open the door. He doesn't and Haruhi sighs at the interruption and her father's ploy to get her inside. They're both lightly panting and her cheeks feel warm. Even so, the startle allows her to regain a semblance of logic as the phrase 'always leave 'em wanting more' crosses her mind. _Funny. Dad says that about his job. But what if I'm the one wanting?_

She turns her face back to Kyoya and he's quick to try and kiss her again, but she doesn't reciprocate. "I should go inside," she says in an undertone. "He's only going to get more persistent."

Kyoya murmurs, "Let him try," before kissing her forehead, tempting her sorely to taste him once more. _But enough is never enough for you, or any boy I suppose, so it's up to me to put on the brakes.  
_

"Kyoya-" She pushes him back, just a little.

"One more kiss. The last."

 _So convincing, yet so untrue._ "I hope not," she teases just to keep him intrigued.

"No, not when I've had a sampling."

"Flatterer," she jibes, lifting only her eyes.

"Truth." He sounds miffed and she looks up, fully.

"Which is all I ask of you, ever."

"I've never been anything but with you, Haruhi. You know that."

"Really? Because seems to me someone kept the nature of a vase I broke pretty well hidden and for a good long while."

"A misdirection, at best. I've always kept an accurate accounting and would have told you at some point."

"You did come clean, finally," she admits with a playful air before turning suddenly serious. "And I hope that's the last so-called misdirection you attempt on me, Ootori Kyoya.

"Of course," he rejoins, though something about the way he says it seems somewhat disingenuous.

Her eyes narrow. _Is this one of those defining moments for us, even this early in our relationship? It may be, so I better be clear._ She meets his direct gaze, his eyes only partially visible behind the reflection of the wall fixture's glare on his glasses. "Promise me," she says.

He's earnest in return, pausing to pull back just a bit while still holding onto her, his eyes visible but his visage troubled. "I won't lie to you, but be careful what questions you ask, Haruhi. You may not like the answer."

"What do you-" The exterior light is now flicking on and off with some rapidity and she groans. She offers her best sideways glance. "Tomorrow then," she murmurs, then adds, "At club," to ensure he knows she's not so easily swept off her feet, even if she's stumbling.

"Good night," he whispers and she slips inside. Closing the outer door, Haruhi leans her back against it, remembering how it felt only moments before and already missing the young man who has firmly planted himself in her heart. _Well, that was an odd answer, but I'll think about it tomorrow._ She removes her precious new coat in a dreamy state and holds it up in front of her, admiring the cut, the fabric, the fur - everything about it, in fact.

 _Should I hang it on a peg or keep it tucked away in my bedroom? I don't want the twins to think I'm ungrateful for not wearing it to school, but it's just so lovely. I'd hate to see it get dirty or ruined._ She pauses _. What am I thinking? There's no way I can wear this to school. It's a woman's coat and I'm still a boy there._ A small sigh of disappointment escapes her. _It was actually fun to dress up and be a girly-girl tonight. Not that I'd want to go the whole nine yards every day, but it felt okay. And I did like the way Kyoya looked at me when I emerged. I know it shouldn't matter, but it did. Imagine that._

"Haruhi," her father's voice calls from the living room. His tone is a cross between meek and demanding, if that's even possible.

Draping the coat over her arm, she removes the velvet flats from cold, though not frozen, feet. Leaving them behind, she goes into the living room where she finds Ryoji sitting at the low table, perusing a fashion magazine. She imagines he's had his ear pressed to the door right up until the moment he heard the doorknob jiggle the lock. She knows this because he's still dressed in his ensemble and he typically changes into comfy clothes as soon as he can after getting home.

 _We really do need to chat, Dad, but you bungled big time tonight and I meant what I said when I told you I wouldn't be speaking to you for awhile. Well, at least tonight._ As she passes him on the way to her bedroom, he softly calls her name again. She stops in place but refuses to look at him.

"I know I messed up tonight, kiddo," he begins in an ameliorating tone. "But you must also know that I did it from a place of love." She says nothing. "And I won't blame the Hitachiin brothers for my lapse of judgment. I'm the adult and I should have taken control of myself better. I know that and I apologize." She begins to move past him. "But because I'm an adult…" She pauses, this time out of respect. "There are things I know that you don't and things I see that you can't."

She breaks her promise to herself not to say anything, unable to resist responding. Turning in place, she gently lays the coat on the table and joins her father, wondering how it could only be a few hours since they'd sat and chatted about the evening to come. She rubs a hand idly over her feet to restore warmth, grateful for the soft socks that have kept the worst of the bitter night at bay. _Wish I could say the same for the shawl_. She draws the garment around herself in the slightly chill air of the apartment and without Kyoya to keep her warm, she shivers. She reads worry in her father's face and thinks she understands what concerns him.

She's calm when she says, "The jacket had wine spilled on it and it's being cleaned. The woman responsible is taking care of it." Ryoji barely nods in acknowledgement of her explanation, so she addresses another point. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad. I'm growing up and I can handle myself with Kyoya. I know something about how boys behave, believe it or not, and I've learned a thing or two about self-defense from my friends." Ryoji seems surprised at that. "I know I have a lot more to learn, but I'm not stupid when it comes to people's motives."

"Boys aren't people, Haruhi. They're…"

"Please don't be melodramatic," Haruhi warns, stifling the urge to roll her eyes. "I know what you're going to say and I'm not going to let you disrespect my friends when you have no cause. I trust them - all of them - and so should you, by now. The fact of the matter is that they care about me and protect me like brothers."

"I hardly think Kyoya thinks of himself as a brother. At least, not any more."

"I thought you liked him."

"I do, but his behavior tonight..."

"Is perfectly normal and welcome. You understand that, don't you?" Ryoji looks forlorn, so she relents. "I like Kyoya, Dad. A lot. We're dating now, which means it's more than platonic, like it or not. He's a good person; not an easy person by any means, but a good person. I've learned that much about him and I think I know him well enough-"

"You don't know him at all." Ryoji's statement cuts her short, his mild mannered approach shifting into the definite and parental. Haruhi flinches, taken aback by his surety. "I'm sorry to startle you like that, but you need to hear me out." He pauses then leans forward, hands pressed against the tabletop. "I know what I did tonight was wrong, but if I hadn't followed you, I wouldn't have noticed what I noticed and realize what experience tells me is true."

"What…your…experience…?" She blinks several times. _What are you talking about?_

"Haruhi, what do you really know about Kyoya or Tamaki? They've been friends for a few years now, right?"

"Tamaki-senpai? What brings him into this?"

"He was at the restaurant tonight." Ryoji's manner is deadly calm, something Haruhi finds troubling.

"So?"

"I saw what happened between you and them, what happened between them without you even being aware of it."

"What do you mean?"

Ryoji lifts his hands and presses his forehead down onto his uplifted palms. "I wondered about Tamaki when I first met him." Hands drop and Ryoji looks to the right. "I get vibes about people. So many years working with the public and personal experience will do that and it really didn't matter, then. He was just a friend of yours."

"Dad, please. What are you saying?"

Ryoji heaves a sigh and looks at his daughter. "Sweetie," he says softly, "Tamaki is gay."

Haruhi's eyes squint as she inadvertently leans towards her father, as if being closer to his mouth will make his words more coherent. "Say again?"

Ryoji pulls himself upright and looks Haruhi square in the eye. "He's homosexual. That much I'm certain of, and whether he realizes it or not is really not my concern. Kami-sama knows, it doesn't matter to me."

"Or to me, if it's even true."

"Haruhi, think about it. With all the girls that visit Host Club and all the girls he could date, why doesn't he?"

"That doesn't mean anything," she protests. "Ouran students have goals. A serious relationship can be a distraction. _Which concerns me, too._

"Granted. In and of itself it means nothing except, maybe, that he's a flirt. But here's what troubles me. None of the hosts have girlfriends."

"Kyoya does. Me."

"Yes, you are, for now. And I don't doubt his sincerity or his interest."

"I thought we were talking about Tamaki-senpai."

"We are, but I'm also thinking about Kyoya. And the twins. And Mori and Honey. I know Hikaru has shown interest in you, but Kaoru isn't about to let him get into anything serious with a girl, yet. They're too enmeshed. That much I can tell you just by spending some time with them. Mori and Honey…"

"Are cousins, if you must know." Haruhi's irritation is apparent. "Their families have been close for generations."

"Fine. I believe that they're devoted to one another on that level."

"What do you mean, 'on that level?' You're not suggesting that _they're_ -"

"I can't tell. I haven't spent enough time with them. But Tamaki is gay, definitely. I'd lay money on it if I were still a betting man - which I'm not, by the way, nor a drinking one. No worries, my darling, about that."

"Good. Because if anyone _shouldn't_ be scrutinizing behavior, it's you, Dad." Her anger is fueled by her ethics and disappointment in Ryoji's attitude.

"Haruhi, listen…"

"No," she says, struggling to keep her tone respectful. "I'm not going to listen to this because it doesn't matter. Even if you're right about Tamaki-senpai, it doesn't matter. I don't care if he's gay or straight or bisexual. Gender doesn't matter, has never mattered or ever will ever matter to me. And who a person loves is their own business and none of mine."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

Her ire dissipates. "So what is this about? And what does it have to do with me and Kyoya?"

"Kyoya and me."

"Don't correct me when I'm arguing with you," she spits in exasperation. Her previous aura of contentment has been sapped and she wants the conversation to be over…ten minutes ago.

"I'm sorry, but you know I've taught you better than that."

"Stick to the topic, Dad! What does Tamaki-senpai being gay, if he is, have anything to do with my being with Kyoya?"

"It doesn't really, except that it seemed to me earlier tonight that Kyoya was a bit…confused."

His statement scrambles her thoughts. "Kyoya, confused? I doubt that. He's one of the sharpest thinkers I've ever met."

"I'm not talking knowledge. I'm talking feelings."

She's suddenly cautious as she asks, "What are you suggesting?"

Ryoji cocks his head, watching Haruhi from narrowed eyes. "Didn't you think their body language odd? I know I did. Tamaki was clearly flirting and not with you. Didn't you notice that? It was surprising."

Thinking back, Haruhi realizes that Tamaki was, indeed, somewhat distant. "He was…upset…about his argument with Kyoya."

"I see. An argument. About what?"

"I don't know. I didn't pry."

"But there's friction between them, isn't there?"

"Yes, Kyoya mentioned it."

"Did he say over what? People are often inclined to talk about their quarrels, even it's just to get a bit of sympathy or a kick in the teeth to say 'get over it.' That's what you provided, didn't you?"

"Yes, and they will get over it in their own time and on their own terms."

"But let me guess. Kyoya wouldn't tell you what it was about, would he?"

"He doesn't owe me any explanations."

"He owes you the truth, Haruhi, especially if he's going to be dating you. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I did."

"Seen what? I don't like what you're suggesting at all."

"I haven't suggested anything-"

"You're about to, though, aren't you? You're going to tell me that Tamaki-senpai and Kyoya have something going on between them." Ryoji sits back and grows quiet. Haruhi's eyes grow wide and her shoulders drop. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet. "You are, aren't you?

"It's only a hunch and it may be nothing on Kyoya's end of things, but Tamaki is smitten. And Kyoya may just be curious enough or has been in the past, to see where that leads."

 _That's ridiculous. I've been with Kyoya all day and he's definitely not interested in boys._ She shakes her head slowly. "No. You're wrong. I can believe Tamaki is gay. I can, but not Kyoya."

"I didn't say Kyoya is gay." Haruhi stares at her father whose eyes remain locked on hers for a few seconds before he throws his hands up on either side of him in slow motion, as if to say, "Think about me." The message is clear and the pieces fit, but does she want to see the puzzle complete? And then, it's too much to process, to feel, to consider - even for the tolerant Fujioka Haruhi.

She looks away and in a low voice says, "I said I wasn't going to talk to you for a week and I should have kept to that." She stands. "I'm sure you're reading something into nothing. Good night, Dad." She keeps herself together until the shoji door to her room slides closed, then takes a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, suddenly jangled from the implications that have landed in her lap.

Ryoji's voice sounds muffled through the screen. "I'm sorry if things came out wrong."

"I said good night," she says in a firm voice that she hopes doesn't betray her emotional state.

She waits by the screen until she hears the television come on with the nightly news her father always watches as he prepares her lunch for school before turning in. With the drone of the late-night announcer's somber voice bleeding through the walls, Haruhi goes on auto-pilot. She turns on the desk lamp where she prepares her bookbag for the following day. As she goes through her already thoroughly organized things, her hands slow and as she latches the valise shut, they stop.

_News flash. Fujioka Haruhi is an idiot. She's falling in love with a boy who may or may not be bisexual and who may or may not have hooked up with one of their mutual friends. Editorial. I don't care if Tamaki is gay and Kyoya is bisexual. If he and Tamaki did hook up, I'll deal with it. What I can't deal with is the fact that Tamaki may really be in love with Kyoya. And what I can't even think about is Kyoya not being up front with me about it. Someone I care about is going to be hurt and it might be me._

End - Chapter 27 – Keep Breathing

* * *

Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson [Haruhi-centric]

The storm is coming, but I don't mind.  
People are dying; I close my blinds.  
All that I know is I'm breathing now.

I want to change the world; instead, I sleep.  
I want to believe in more than you and me.  
But all that I know is I'm breathing.  
All I can do is keep breathing.  
All we can do is keep breathing now.

Now...now...now.

All that I know is I'm breathing.  
All I can do is keep breathing.  
All we can do is keep breathing.

All we can do is keep breathing (7x)  
All we can do is keep breathing…now.


	28. Blush

The desk lamp spills a bright circle of light onto her desk, creating irregular patches of light and shadow elsewhere in the room. _I won't let Dad's imagination get the best of me._

She undresses, pulling on her robe against the chill of the less heated room, her breath slowing as she considers the day logically. _Kyoya went through a lot of trouble to make tonight work. I know he did and he did that for me_. _Then there's_ _the way he spoke to me and touched me._ She sighs and touches her fingertips to her lips, recalling how good it felt to be in his arms and share those kisses. _He and Tamaki-senpai are close, but in that way? It doesn't make sense and if it doesn't make sense, it can't be true._

Picking up the House of Hitachiin garment bags from her bed, she arranges the bustier and trousers within one, hanging both bags on the short bar that juts out from the wall beside the tansu. She folds the shawl in half and half again before laying it over the back of her desk chair. _Kyoya - bisexual? It's possible, I suppose. Could he really be figuring things out? But if that's true, why would he pursue a relationship with me if he cared for senpai as something other than a friend?_ She groans softly. "As if things aren't complicated enough."

Grabbing her toiletries caddy from inside the tiny closet beside her bed, she heads towards the bath off the kitchen. The apartment is dark, cast in shades of gray and black from Tokyo's ever-present nightglow filtering through the draperies. The heater is turned up a bit so the hum and rush of hot air fills the space. It's a gesture of reconciliation and a way to keep her tears, if she had them, somewhat private.

_Oh, Dad._

It's a quick shower in tepid water, but the steam heats up the tiny bathroom well enough. On her return to the bedroom, she stops to turn down the heater and pick up her coat from the table. Spying a sheet of folded paper next to it with her name written in florid hand, she takes that as well, stuffing it into one of the pockets.

In her room, she tousles her locks with the terry robe's hood. The room has warmed up with the screen ajar and she slides it shut to keep the heat within for as long as possible. She hangs the coat on its hanger and stows the caddy in the closet. As she pulls a pair of pajamas from the tansu, she catches her reflection in the body-length mirror mounted on the closet door's exterior. Without the glamorous clothing, makeup and hair, she recognizes herself fully once more.

Tossing the pajamas onto the futon, she undoes the belt of her robe, then drops it off her shoulders so that it puddles around her waist. She pauses, then lets it drop to the floor. Placing her hands on her belly, she studies her body and, as sometimes happens, it suddenly seems not her own.

She observes with detachment her small feet, toes unpainted and nails clipped short; her ankles, slender in supporting average-looking legs that bear the nearly-invisible down of girls her age, the same being true of her pubis. _Must be weird to have visible hair there, like some of the foreign girls do._ She knows this because Renge let this factoid drop in one of their get-to-know-one-another sessions. Renge being Renge, Haruhi didn't quite believe it at first, but the girl did seem to know an awful lot about a lot of things, so Haruhi decided it must be true.

Her eyes regard her breasts. _Little Miss A-cup, that's me._ Her figure has matured a bit in the last year and she's no longer so totally boyish in shape, but she's hardly what most boys seem to prefer. She's been masquerading as one long enough to have been privy to any number of conversations held when girls aren't around. Boys talk sports, video games, food and girls, in no particular order. They debate what's hot and what's not in every category and what they seem to like in girls is long hair, large breasts, a narrow waist and a perfect bottom in a pair of fitted jeans. Haruhi turns to the side and looks at her own derrière.

 _It's ordinary and just what am I doing?_ She tries to shake off such petty thoughts, but fails. _Why am I suddenly conscious of how it might affect them to see me like_ _this_ _? Really, Haruhi? Them or just him?_ She tries to see things as Kyoya might, pink warmth coloring her cheeks. _What's happening to me? Why does it suddenly matter what my body looks like? It's never mattered before._

She faces herself again and without planning it, suddenly imagines Kyoya standing behind her, equally unclad, his hands splayed on either side of her waist, his eyes watching her in the mirror. Her pulse and her breath quicken and the now-familiar tug between her legs reveals the effect of her ideation, and she wonders how it might feel to have his hands explore her body. She leans in to flick off the desk lamp, cloaking the room in darkness. _Maybe it isn't Kyoya. Maybe it's just a part of growing up to feel this way when a boy pays attention to you._ Returning to her place before the mirror, she watches her dim reflection, visualizing each of the Hosts standing behind her, in turn.

Honey peeks his head out from behind her and winks at her. _Nope, too much like a little boy, my loli-shota._ Honey pouts and morphs into Mori who towers behind her, appraising her stoically and earning him a short sigh that's dismissed. _Gorgeous, but too quiet._ Next come the twins on either side of her, their arms around her shoulders, their leering grins earning her humor more than anything else. _Go have fun, together, you two_. _You're family now._ They stick out their tongues at her and morph into Tamaki, his beautiful eyes glowing with amorous charm as his hands rest on her shoulders before he reaches back, grabs the shawl and drapes it over her shoulders. _A true gentleman and truly uninterested_ _?_ _Likely_ _._ Last is Kyoya. The young man who seems to have possessed her thoughts over the last few weeks and after today, some of her body and all of her heart, comes into focus. She meets his unwavering gazey and feels the butterflies in her stomach.

 _Do people fall in love so quickly? So completely? I've known from the moment I let you in today that I wanted you no matter the risks or the possibility of hurt. It doesn't matter as long as I can be with you for even a little while. I want to be in love with you, Kyoya, and only you._ She mouths the words "I love you" to her imaginary lover, testing how feels with genuine feeling. She closes her eyes and lets the flood of emotion carry her. Placing her right hand over her left breast, she pretends it's not her hand, but his. Small as her hand is, it encompasses her entirely.

 _I'm not exactly built the way boys prefer, but I felt your interest. I want to know…love…with you._ Logic battles body-longing. _Masculine or feminine makes no difference to what the heart desires, or the body. But if Kyoya is bisexual, are his feelings the same towards boys as they are towards girls? Would he act the same way?_ Her fingers trail downwards, across the flatness of her belly, pausing at the indentation of her navel. _I'll have to do some more research, I guess. I don't want to seem ignorant, but does it feel as good as when..._

Slowly, her hand moves downwards, over the slight mound of downy pubis, across the hood of her clitoris and further until her hand covers her sex. Her fingers are short, but his would be longer, able to span the length of her sex and move within. She presses her longest finger inwards and upwards. She's researched "penis" on her laptop and gotten medical images and diagrams. Then she tried a few risqué websites and saw what it might look like when erect. _Most_ _guys aren't built that way, I'm sure; just like most girls aren't built like super-models._

She withdraws her finger and slides it upwards, against the sensitive folds of the inner labia, keeping quiet as pleasure courses through her body. In the stillness of the apartment, noise travels easily through thin walls so she's careful. With the tips of her slickened fingers, she rubs the tiny bundle of nerves at the top, feeling the small organ beneath its hood toughen under her circling. Her free hand finds its way to her right breast, the more responsive one, gently rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger, intensifying the sensations flooding her body.

And then her cellphone chirrups.

Haruhi jumps, startled at the soft sound, arousal mixing with embarrassment. She rushes to grab the unit from her wristlet before it sounds again, threatening to awaken Ryoji who will confiscate it, if he hears it. Seeing Kyoya's name on the screen, her bodily sensation is mixed with desire, bashfulness and a spike of anxiety for his well-being.

"Kyoya, are you alright?" she asks softly, quickly, her scent lingering on her fingers, a natural aphrodisiac.

"I am now," he says. His velvety voice holds a trace of relief and there's no mistaking the truth therein contained.

"Me, too," she replies and her relieved smile is in her voice. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just…" Silence ensues.

"Kyoya?"

"Present."

"Oh. For a second, I got worried you weren't feeling well again."

"To be accurate, I'm physically fine. I'm just a bit betwixt and between." And to her, he does sound somewhat confused.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Haruhi, you know that's an unfair question."

"Unfair? How?"

"You being there and me being here - I call that unfair."

"Playing host to me?" she chides, but he's brought a smile to her face and eased her nerves.

"Tell me, where are you right now?"

"At home. Where else would I be?"

She hears his chortle. "I mean, where in your home?"

"My bedroom."

"So, we're together in your bedroom? Is that how it is?"

All at once, she's aware of her lack of clothing. "Ummm. Hold on a second, would you?"

"Of course."

Haruhi tosses the phone onto her bed and begins to drop down to pick up her robe, then stops. Stepping past the crumpled garment, she pulls her coat off its hanger and puts it on. The furry lining feels decadent against her bare skin and, somehow, emboldens her. She grabs the phone as she lay down on her bed, curling her knees under the sweep of the coat and cradling the fluffy collar around her face. Kyoya's cologne still lingers in the fur and she breathes in his scent, her yearning for him nearly overwhelming.

"I'm here," she says softly, the phone nestled beside her ear. "I wish you were, too."

"Is that an invitation?" _Is it? Only a little while ago I was asking him to slow down and now I'm practically begging for him to be in my bed? Haruhi! Get a hold of yourself. He won't respect you if you act like a silly fangirl._

"Wh-what I mean is that I miss you being here, in my house. Not that I'm not interested in more than that. I just - I just think-"

"Haruhi, s'ok. I understand." His tone is steady, but quiet, a low purr that holds just the right amount of innocence. _Damn host training, but I do like it coming from him._ _Argh. Be smart_. He continues and she closes her eyes just listening to his voice. "I think we _should_ take things one step at a time. I wouldn't want you to think I was cavalier about you."

"That's reassuring."

"Although you should understand that I'm perfectly willing to go at a more accelerated pace, if that's what you desire. What do you desire, Haruhi?"

The images that come to mind are salacious ones she can barely admit to herself let alone to him and she finds herself unbuttoning the coat, the cooling air of her bedroom raising goose bumps on her torso. The crazed behavior of the girls at club is slowly becoming understandable as want and need take hold in her own body and mind. Only during club hours, it's contained while here and now, she can do as she wishes and no one will know, unless she wishes it.

"I finally get it," she says aloud.

"Excuse me?" Kyoya says, sounding taken aback and she realizes her unintended double meaning.

"No, I don't mean that I get…It. Are you trying to make me blush?"

"So you're blushing. That's a pretty image. Level-headed as you are, I've noticed you can be rattled time to time. It's rather charming, actually, watching you get flustered. Makes me wonder."

Her annoyance is piqued. "Happy to entertain but then, you notice everything."

"Naturally. I've always noticed, even when you thought I didn't. Of course, I had to determine what your purpose was before doing anything about it and it's been interesting watching how others react to you. Tamaki's behavior, in particular, has been most humorous."

 _"_ Tamaki-senpai, huh? Want to clue me in on what's really going on between you?" Her deliberate choice of words raises no reaction, not that she actually thought they would. This is Kyoya, after all.

"We're at odds, but still friends. Sorry to bring him up at all. I'd rather just focus on you and me."

"You're right. I'm sorry," she says and she's truly remorseful for her momentary lapse of manners. _Whatever is going on, it's sure to come into the salon during the week. Everything does, eventually. Meanwhile, I won't jump to conclusions until I can prove to myself what's what._ "So, what's on your mind, Kyoya?"

"Remember when you said to me that families can be difficult? It's true, especially when it comes to elite families. There's always drama, always secrets. It's damned tiring."

"I'm listening." _What secrets do you have?_

"I know you are and for that, I'm thankful. I don't usually talk about my family but, somehow, I feel as if I can tell you anything and you'll understand."

"You can and I would…if it means we become closer."

A pause and then, "Do you really want that, Haruhi? I mean, with me? There are so many other suitors you could have with far less baggage. You'd have pick of the Ouran litter, I'm sure."

She chuckles, yet feels a pang of empathy for the usually confident heir. "I already have the top dog, don't I?"

"So you noticed? Good. And dammit, why are we making dog references?"

She chuckles, "You started it. And even if you weren't, I'd still pick you."

"But that wasn't always the case, now was it?"

"Fishing for compliments? How unlike you."

"It seems you bring out a different side of me."

"Is that good?"

"It's not unwanted, just different."

"Whatever. I like you now. I like the way your mind works. It's impressive, actually. You're impressive."

"You think so?"

"Are you kidding? You're brilliant and what I don't understand is how your family doesn't appreciate how hard you work or how exceptional you are."

"My father is tough on me, but I accept it as his way. Grooming four heirs for positions of leadership in society is neither an easy nor a simple task."

"You respect him, don't you?"

"I respect his knowledge, his business acumen and his work ethic. I'm less a fan of his personal nature and foibles."

She remains silent, knowing he'll tell her whatever he wants to when it's right. Meanwhile, her arms long to hold him. "Kyoya?"

"Hmmm?"

"Guess what I'm wearing."

"Haruhi, are you trying to make me blush?"

"Only if you like it," slips out and she feels a need to recant, wondering if he'll think her silly or easy.

"Trust me, I'm listening intently." Her gambit leaves an opening she's not quite ready to fill. Maybe, in time, but not now.

"Don't get your hopes up too high. I am not sending you photos or doing perverted things by phone. And I won't text you twenty times a day if it's annoying. I know you like to stay focused on your schoolwork."

"Haruhi, a gentleman would never ask for an indecent photo, and thank you for being considerate of my time."

"I'm certain you don't need to ask at all. I don't and even I get unwanted photos and texts. Nothing too lurid, but not exactly family-friendly either."

"Is that so?" He sounds mildly enticed, though by the fact or by her openness about it, she isn't sure.

"I imagine you receive any number of offers, requests and envelopes asking for private sessions," she chides, knowing that they all do.

"I may, but it's club policy to keep our intentions deliberately vague and our hands above the table. You know that, Haruhi. The danger of scandal makes it a necessity. As for photos or sexting, I never reply, I delete everything and I never forward. That would be against the law."

"No matter how hard the twins beg?"

"Touché, Haruhi. You are, indeed, a full-fledged host if you know this about them."

Their shared camaraderie urges disclosure and she remarks, "Sometimes I think I know too much and yet, nothing at all."

"And that," he states, "is by design. Tamaki and I determined as much shortly after you became a member. The male mind is far too base for us to allow you to see how we are in our natural state. The twins let their guard down a bit more than we'd like, but they manage to keep their language clean and their inhibitions in place except for their "act" when customers are present."

"You mean they can be worse?"

"Oh, much." At that, a bubble of laughter escapes her. "In fact, I think they send more provocative photos than they receive - to each other, of course."

Her giggles are irrepressible and she stifles them in the thick collar of the coat. She composes herself and murmurs, "You sound more relaxed now."

"You seem to have that effect on me, though I've never thought of being relaxed as a virtue. Still, it might be worth exploring, if it means that much to you."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Haruhi, there isn't much I wouldn't do for you-" And he stops, as if he's said too much and she wonders if he regrets such an open admission.

"Thank you for that," she says softly. "It may be that I feel that way, too."

"Ah so. So what, exactly, are you wearing, if I may ask?" He tries to make the question casual, but his curiosity is apparent.

"The coat I wore tonight." _I'm not a tease, Kyoya._

"The coat?"

"Only the coat," she says, drawing out the words just a bit. _Or am I?_

She hears the soft groan at the other end of the line. "Are you sure you haven't played at love before? You're quite good at it."

An immediate twitch of worry grabs her. "Is it wrong? I don't really know what I'm doing, Kyo. Are your calls monitored?" The short-form of his name lets slip her close feeling to him.

His chuckle is laced with mock discomfort. "You never cease to surprise me, but probably. Does it bother you?"

"A little, I guess."

"Then you had better adjust because I have no intention of keeping "us" a secret - overt or covert."

"Is that a good idea?"

"It's perfect. You're perfect and don't even know it."

"Me? Perfect? I'm built like a boy," she says.

"You're lovely. I don't need voluptuous curves. Besides, yours are in all the right places and quite enough."

She's quiet as The Cool Host reveals that he's just another boy paying the girl he esteems an intimate and genuine compliment. His admiration and libidinous words land squarely in her heart. She's tempted to ask if that means he likes girls, but the unspoken question that prompts it would spoil the moment, so she lets it go.

_Curiosity killed the cat, after all._

"I think you're special, too," she says. They're quiet for a bit and then she adds, "We both should get some sleep. It's late and there's school tomorrow. Plus, I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting week."

"It always is."

"You knew what you were doing when you came here this afternoon, didn't you? And it wasn't about the umbrella."

"I told you I'd be honest with you, so I must admit that you're right. I came to your house today because I wanted to see you."

"And no keeping secrets, even if they are common for elite families."

She hears his deep sigh. "If you think you can handle it, then yes. Ask me whatever you want."

"I just have one question right now."

"That being?"

"Are you going to be able to sleep tonight? After what happened?"

"I'm fine, Haruhi. I'll do a little reading."

"Just not all night. I know you do that, sometimes."

"Not tonight. What about you?"

"I'll listen to some music, though I really prefer the spoken voice."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"My dad used to read me to sleep when I was younger."

"Not shoujo manga, I hope."

"No, not at all," she says and smiles, recalling her encounter with Nekozawa Kirimi. "I used to like animal stories but, really, I just liked to hear the sound of his voice. It made me feel safe."

"And now?"

"I don't have time for much pleasure reading anymore, but I do miss his reading to me at night."

"Shall I, then?"

She's caught off balance by the his offer, one so out of character that she wonders just who Ootori Kyoya really is.

"I'm- I'm afraid I don't have anything at hand. What do you generally read before bed?"

"Financial websites, of course, like a diligent son of wealth."

"Then read me those."

"Those?"

"Yes, I'm sure you find it relaxing and if it's important to you, it's important to me. Unless you object."

"Not at all. Let's see, hang on." She hears rustling and waits, imagining him going for his tablet or laptop or whatever the latest gizmo there is on the market. She's certain he has them all. Her phone is on speaker and she uses the opportunity to change into her pajamas and crawl under the covers, making herself comfy beneath the thick quilt. She hears Kyoya clearing his voice, then say, "Let's see what's happening on the I.B.T., shall we?"

"I.B.T.?"

"International Business Times."

"Sounds sexy."

"Money, in case you haven't learned by now, is sexy."

"For some."

"Not you?"

"Nope. I go for the intellectual type - you know, the megane, but only the good-looking ones."

"Do I fit the bill?"

"Quite nicely."

"Should I be reading you the encyclopedia, then?

"Next time. I'm sure you reading it will give it an entirely new dimension."

"Be careful what you wish for, Haruhi."

"I might just get it?"

"Undoubtedly."

Their voices have been growing softer with each exchange, and warmer in tone. Haruhi surrenders into the voice and imagines herself surrendering into his arms, as well.

"Good. So what does the I.B.T. say?"

"Hm. According to expectations the Bank of Japan voted unanimously to continue increasing base money, or cash and deposits at the central bank, at an annual pace of 60 trillion yen to 70 trillion yen and repeated its earlier stated outlook on the country's economy."

"Keep going…" she says within a yawn.

"The bank's official statement noted that Japan's economy has been recovering moderately and added that overseas economies, too, are picking up moderately, although a lackluster performance is partly seen."

"Uh-huh," she murmurs, turning onto her side and snuggling into the covers, her body lulled by Kyoya's resonant voice and his unintended admission of feeling.

_I know you'll tell me the truth if I ask. And yes, I can handle it. I really don't have a choice. I can't be without you, Ootori Kyoya. Not any more._

"The statement added that public and private investments are on the rise and demand has been resilient, but it could be subject to some volatility before and after the hike in the consumption tax takes effect."

_Somehow, I have to figure out how to solve a problem without creating another one._

"The statement also sounded a note of caution by saying that 'there remains a high degree of uncertainty' about the Japanese economy, and expressed concerns about the pace of economic recovery in the European Union and the United States." He pauses. "Haruhi? Are you asleep?" He pauses once more, then whispers, "Mata ashita."

And though she doesn't answer, he leaves the line open. It's a simple gesture between adolescents the world over except, for them, the exchange holds deeper meaning than friendship. For them, it's the distinct threads of two lives beginning to weave: his, the undulating weft of a complex life, hers the aligning warp of the simpler. What will emerge is uncertain at such an early stage, but the pattern is beginning.

End - Chapter 28 - Blush

* * *

Blush by Plumb [Haruhi-centric]

When you look at me, I start to blush  
and all that I can see is you and us.  
Oh baby, I'm so afraid to be in love  
with you, with you.

CHORUS:  
I want to be in love with only you.  
I want to watch the sky turn grey, then blue.  
I want to know the kiss that's always new.  
I want to be in love with only you, just you.

When stars are falling dark, we'll light the way.  
We'll hit the ground and fall into the shade.  
I'll light the night with fire and run away  
with you, with you.

CHORUS

I want to be in love with you. (2x)  
I want to be in love (I want to be in love).

I want to be in love with you!

CHORUS

Yeah, just you. Yeah, just you.

I want to be… just you… yeah.

Ain't got no more words for you.


	29. Nothing Else Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike other chapters where the accompanying song is an omake to be listened to or not, the song in this chapter is a genuine story element. Neither filk nor songfic, I've tried to coordinate the timing of text and music. It's an experiment, so please indulge my creative juices if it's a little off (or a lot). Begin song at ::cue song:: in the story and read at a walking pace ("andante" for the musicians out there). Or don't listen at all.

The last day of the first month of the year begins with an oblong of muted gray light at the far end of her bedroom. Haruhi's alarm goes off at 6:00 a.m. precisely with a repeating beep that grows louder as Hello Kitty's face glows pink, then blue, then green until it cycles through its rainbow to the loudest setting. The brunette reaches out an arm from under the covers and presses the snooze button. _Just five more minutes, please._

She snuggles deeper under the thick quilt and hugs the soft, stuffed shina ibu she's had since she was a baby, a gift from her parents presented on the day she was born nearly sixteen years ago. Ryoji has kept it clean and repaired so that despite a well-worn appearance and missing button-nose, it remains a beloved possession, the original bow at its neck replaced regularly, the current one being pastel blue.

Haruhi murmurs into the fuzzy toy's ear, "I'm sure Kyoya would think me silly for sleeping with you, but if Tamaki can sleep with Kuma-chan and Honey can carry around Usa-chan, then you can stay with me, Boo-chan." Memories of her date with Kyoya drift through her drowsy thoughts and Haruhi smiles, anticipating seeing him later in the day. She stretches and as the alarm beeps for the second time, she presses it off and throws off the covers.

The air is chill and she quickly dons her robe and slippers. Sliding open the door, she hurries to the heater and flips it on, pushing the temperature up a bit higher than Ryoji prefers. A quick wash-up and she's back in her room, putting on her uniform. She hears her dad rustling in the kitchen and remembers the note he'd left for her.

Heading over to her new coat, she pulls out the sheet of paper she'd tucked in the pocket. The scrap bears only one word: "gomen." Haruhi sighs aloud, then replaces it in the coat's pocket, deciding that she isn't angry with him anymore. _Though I won't let him know that until I get home later. Maybe._ She takes her cellphone out of her wristlet and sees there are several messages waiting for her. Only one truly matters - Kyoya's at 2 a.m.

 **To Haruhi:** Am I so boring? Tomorrow, then. Good night, Haru.

She smiles and taps in: **To Kyoya:** Good morning! Not boring. Soothing. Later.

Mondays at Ouran are always packed with new lessons and heavy notes. She won't text him beyond her hello so as not to interfere with his lessons. _That would be selfish, even though I do miss you. Besides, I made a promise.  
_

Grabbing her bookbag, she heads into the living room where Ryoji has set up a simple breakfast. He's free on Mondays, but always prepares something before going back to sleep until noon. Today it's miso soup, a fish paste rolled omelet and some pickled vegetables. Haruhi finishes the soup and vegetables, stowing the omelet in her chilled lunchbox for later. A glance at the clock, a few sips of instant coffee and she sets sets the used china in the sink.

She approaches her father's bedroom and gently raps on the door jamb, then slides the door open a few inches. "Well, I'm off," she says, but Ryoji is already asleep again, or pretends to be. She leaves the door ajar so the warm air can infiltrate his room and heads to the pegs where her Ouran duffel-coat hangs. Reaching for it, she hesitates. _I really do love my new coat and frankly, I don't care what people think. And neither does Kyoya, or so it appears._ A puff of air escapes through her nose and she turns and heads back to her bedroom with determination.

Setting her bookbag on the desk, she dons the lush garment she wore the evening before. Somehow, wearing it makes her feel…different. Suddenly, she's not Fujioka Haruhi, the honor student, but Fujioka Haruhi, future law student. She smiles to herself knowing that such an appellation is premature, but… _thoughts matter and dreams matter more. Besides, who's going to notice a coat?_

Outside, the air is clear and cold, the streets and sidewalks surprisingly clean and dry. The sky is blue and the pale midwinter sun shines with all of its might. Haruhi intakes a great breath. _It's all going to be fine. Right mom?_ She looks heavenwards, hoping for a sign from Kotoko, but the only thing she sees are wispy clouds high in the stratosphere. She turns and heads towards the staircase, looking straight ahead. _Guess it really was a dream._ She nears the end of the level and turns to descend the stairs when she stops and simply stares.

At the bottom of the steps is a late-model black Escalade that looks a lot like the vehicle that took her home the day Kyoya first kissed her. In fact, as the driver exits the car, she recognizes Hotta, the man who chauffeured them last evening. _Oh, you didn't, Kyoya, did you?_ She's not sure if she's irritated or flattered or, perhaps, a little of both. Without knowing if the brunet is waiting for her in the vehicle, her heart beats a bit faster. _We've only just gone on one date. This seems a bit much._ But even the thought of seeing him stirs her.

She descends the stairs and waves to the bald-headed man when she reaches the bottom. Still a little uncertain of her status in relation to the older man, she bows at a level she thinks is appropriate and he does the same, a bit lower.

"Good morning, Hotta-san. Is Kyoya with you?"

"Not so, Fujioka-san. He merely sent me to take you to school until he can make alternate arrangements for your transport."

"Alternate what?" Her mild disappointment is overshadowed by her confusion.

"He told me that if you argue, I am to call him. Trust me when I say you don't wish to speak with my young Master early in the morning."

"And why is that?" she says with a slight moue.

"He is what might politely be called-"ill-tempered"- early in the day."

"Huh. What you mean to say is he's a grouch. So I've heard."

Hotta gives her a knowing smile. "And it would be on my head if you did not comply and allow me to take you to school."

"Then I suppose you'll have to do just that. I certainly don't want to be the cause of you getting reamed out. I've heard Kyoya do that to others and it's not pretty."

"Perhaps not, but quite effective. Shall we go?" He pulls open the rear door and Haruhi enters the car. As they drive away, several pedestrians watch with interest.

Inside the vehicle, Haruhi notices that the arm rest is down so she sets her bookbag at her feet before settling back in the molded leather seat. On the passenger side lay a newspaper, a slim metal carafe and a pair of wireless Sennheisers mounted on a hook on the back of the front seat. A few silent moments tick by and Haruhi feels a need to be hospitable. Treating anyone, even household servants, as invisible makes no sense to her and so, she leans forward, taking note of Hotta's profile. It's scary, but he has a good face. She trusts him because Kyoya does.

"Hotta-san?"

"How can I help, young Miss?" the bald-headed driver responds without his eyes leaving the road.

"When did Kyoya tell you to do this?"

"Early this morning, before he left the estate for school. He utilized another chauffeur and vehicle and sent me to you."

"Then, these things back here…they're for him?"

"He insisted that I leave immediately in order to intercept you. He told me to tell you that you're free to enjoy them, as he would. He would do without."

"Thank you," Haruhi replies and sits back, subtlely pleased by the gesture of her suitor though she knows that he would dismiss it as simple courtesy. Still, it's generous in its way and she knows this is often how he dismisses his altruism. She's known this about him since their very unofficial "date" in a crowded shopping mall when he unaccountably came to the aid of a stranger. So, now, for her?

…"There isn't much I wouldn't do for you, Haruhi"…

The feelings she's only started processing since yesterday pull at her heartstrings. Tenderness, worry and a strong need to be near him overtake her. _So this is what it feels like to fall in love? It's strange. I thought I'd be incredibly happy, but I just feel confused - happy but not, at the same time._ _How can I be sure of him? Of myself? Of anything I'm feeling right now?_

She sighs and satisfies her yen for him by reminding herself that she's sitting where he usually sits on the way to school. _Sharing the same space along the time continuum of past, present and future is almost like being together, isn't it?_ She rolls her eyes hearing Kyoya's trademark "interesting notion" phrase in her mind with a certain humor laced through it. _Darn you, Kyoya. Now I'm starting to hear you in my thoughts._ But she does like the idea.

Passing her usual bus stop, Haruhi spies the waiting queue of familiar faces stomp feet against the cold and wrap mufflers tighter around their necks. Some wear face masks against infection; others don't care. The route to Ouran by public bus usually takes forty minutes plus another fifteen to walk from the bus stop onto campus, to her building, to her locker and to her class. Coming in by car in daylight, Haruhi realizes that Ouran is not so far from her home as she imagined.

She gazes out the window and notices that Hotta has turned off the busy thoroughfare onto quieter streets. The savvy chauffeur knows every shortcut but, unlike a cabdriver, has to maneuver a large vehicle through narrow passages unused to its dimensions. If she didn't know about Hotta's history, she'd be worried, but the skilled driver soon has them within the boundaries of the unique neighborhood in which campus is located.

Bunkyo District has always been an hospitable and egalitarian area, with several universities and multiple specialty schools sprinkled throughout - a region flavored by students, office workers and families alike with small businesses, bookshops, cafes and restaurants in abundance. She knows the area of the Dome with its rooftop roller-coaster, but not the more residential section they're now traversing. Bark-colored houses peek out from behind hedges and fences, sitting alongside modern apartment dwellings with shrubbery and barren trees enclosing sudden niches where bicycles and motorcycles are parked. _It's charming. I wonder if Kyoya dictated the route, too._

Her attention turns back towards the items she now knows Kyoya typically handles on his ride to school. She isn't much into newspapers and is surprised that Kyoya is, though she can imagine him thumbing through the pages during the trip. _It's an odd habit for such a techno-savvy individual._ She picks up and opens the carafe and is immediately assailed by the fragrance of a tea she doesn't recognize. Hotta notices the scent, as well. "There's a cup and napkin in the storage area of the arm rest, young Miss," he says. "Please feel free to use them."

"Uh- thank you. May I offer you some?"

"No thank you. The Uji Gyokuro is for your enjoyment. Master Kyoya apologizes if it's lost temperature during the journey."

"Ah so."

"He also wishes me to tell you that he's set the audio frequency to something he says is just for you. If you put on the headphones and hit 'Play' on the console, the selection will begin. We have another ten minutes or so before reaching campus."

"Arigato."

"Douitashimashite."

Holding the uncapped carafe in her right hand, Haruhi lifts the lid of the center console and sees within its padded interior a porcelain Imari teacup and white linen napkin that she removes, fluttering it open and across her lap to protect her coat.

She lifts the cup carefully and admires its beauty. A blue underglaze within is overglazed on the exterior with colorful enamels: hand-painted white cranes and ancient sea tortoises wade in waters lined with pine branches, bamboo stalks and plum blossoms. Turning the cup over, she notes on the base of the circular foot a family crest. _It isn't Ootori, but it may be kin_. _It's definitely vintage._ Giltwork is tastefully applied in sparing amounts on both the sides and base of the vessel and Haruhi is certain it's genuine gold. _The symbols are shogunate. Long life I know is the crane and tortoise, but I can't remember the others. The pattern probably dates back to the 1800's and the cup does, too, most likely. Edo era is my guess. Kyoya would certainly know and he'll probably quiz me on it when I see him today._ She pauses, then chortles _. And if you'd have told me a year ago that I would know such things or date such a person, I would have laughed out loud._

She pours the tea into the cup, filling it half-way before stowing the carafe, loosely re-capped, in the now-empty storage space. The liquid is a beautiful green and as she takes a sip, its natural sweetness is a delightful surprise. _Mmm. Delicious, but naturally_. She manages to get the full-size headphones over her ears with her free hand, then reaches forward to press "Play." _  
_

**::cue song::**

Settling back, she acknowledges that such a peaceful trip to school could become addictive and wonders if Kyoya, or if any of her Ouran friends, truly appreciate the luxuries they enjoy _._ She isn't sure what to expect from Kyoya's cryptic message, but her surprise couldn't be greater than when she hears a melancholy, harmonic guitar riff greet her ears. It's not electric guitar, but an electrified acoustic guitar vibrating the air to create a soulful sound that's neither traditional, nor folksy nor rock's techno-modern vibe. Intrigued, she simply listens. The guitar riff recedes and a new melody emerges and she imagines she's about to hear an instrumental piece as she imbibes to the minor key that caresses the steel strings, the artist's hands no less talented than the one who painstakingly adorned the cup she now holds. Then the drums kick in and she is suddenly startled into paying attention once again.

**...So close no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters...**

The singer plies a simple melody with an even rhythm that feels like a heartbeat.

**...Never opened myself this way. Life is ours; we live it our way. All these words I don't just say and nothing else matters...**

This is Kyoya speaking to her in his own inimitable style.

**...Trust I seek and I find in you. Every day for us something new. Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters...**

The chorus shifts attitude to something less plaintive, more direct.

**...Never cared for what they do. Never cared for what they know, but I know...**

The balladeer seeks certainty in an uncertain world. _I know that feeling, too, Kyoya._

**...So close no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters...**   
**...Never cared for what they do. Never cared for what they know, but I know...**

An instrumental sequence begins and Haruhi begins to sense that Kyoya did indeed choose this song as carefully as chooses everything in his life - nothing left to chance, nothing casually done. And he has chosen her? Serious of purpose, self-assured of success, she wonders if she can handle the intensity of the young man who seems hellbent on sweeping her off her feet just as he promised. _But will it last? Will we? And do I really believe that you can ignore your family's insistence on you being with someone who will bring greater merit to your family name? No matter what I do, I will always be a commoner to them and my father...a freak.  
_

**...I never opened myself this way. Life is ours; we live it our way. All these words I don't just say and nothing else matters...**   
**...Trust I seek and I find in you. Every day for us something new. Open mind for a different view and nothing else matters...**   
**...Never cared for what they say. Never cared for games they play. Never cared for what they do. Never cared for what they know and I know... _  
_**

__I wanted your trust, Kyoya, and now I seem to have it, but I still don't know what's happening with you and Tamaki-senpai or with you and your family._ All I do know, for sure, is that I'm falling in love with you, and it scares me to think that you might not feel the same way. Or that you do._

The car pulls into Ouran's main drop-off area while the song comes to a close with the same melancholy riff with which it began.

**...So close no matter how far. Couldn't be much more from the heart. Forever trusting who we are...**   
**...No, nothing else matters... _  
_**

Outside, students are disembarking from vehicles similar to the one she's in. The hustle-bustle of the day has begun and Haruhi pulls herself together, trying to find the proper mindset for school. Yet she struggles with the thoughts and emotions that Kyoya has raised in her and the questions that she knows she must have answered, if they are to move forward at all.

_But…I'm not turning back and I'm not turning away from whatever it is that you're worried about or hiding. It doesn't matter. I care about you and- and like the song says: nothing else matters._

End - Chapter 29 - Nothing Else Matters

* * *

Nothing Else Matters by Metallica [Kyoya-centric]

So close no matter how far;  
Couldn't be much more from the heart.  
Forever trusting who we are  
And nothing else matters.

Never opened myself this way.  
Life is ours, we live it our way.  
All these words, I don't just say;  
And nothing else matters.

Trust I seek and I find in you.  
Every day, for us, something new.  
Open mind for a different view  
And nothing else matters.

Never cared for what they do.  
Never cared for what they know.  
But I know…

So close no matter how far;  
Couldn't be much more from the heart.  
Forever trusting who we are  
And nothing else matters.

Never cared for what they do.  
Never cared for what they know.  
But I know…

I never opened myself this way.  
Life is ours, we live it our way.  
All these words, I don't just say;  
And nothing else matters.

Trust I seek and I find in you.  
Every day, for us, something new.  
Open mind for a different view  
And nothing else matters.

Never cared for what they say.  
Never cared for games they play.  
Never cared for what they do.  
Never cared for what they know.  
And I know…

So close no matter how far;  
Couldn't be much more from the heart.  
Forever trusting who we are.  
No, nothing else matters.


	30. Hourglass

The last day of the first month of the new year begins in the second Suoh mansion in a somewhat different manner than in the Fujioka household. At 6:15 a.m. Tamaki's valet enters his bedroom.

"Nightstand lamp on, Level 4," the small, dapper man says in a soothing voice and the Lalique crystal lamp that sits on Tamaki's bedside table grows in illumination. "Music on. Good morning, young Master. It's time to awaken and prepare for school." The Schubert sonata Tamaki has been slaving over for the last week begins to play over the second mansion's integrated sound system that can be heard throughout the residence or in a single room. Everything is voice activated despite the antique elegance.

It is the best of both worlds, pre-tech and totally-tech, but Tamaki isn't feeling appreciative. He's tossed and turned all night, troubled dreams invading his rest, weaving tangled webs between himself and Kyoya, Haurhi and all the hosts leaving him nearly as tired upon awakening as when he fell asleep _._ Sitting up, he collects his thoughts.

 _Monday. Has it only been a few days since everything happened? Oh, I love that part - right there. Just wish I could play it like she does._ He listens as the passage leaves him aching with dissatisfaction with his own skills, but inspiration to continue practicing.

The valet gradually exposes his master's eyes to light as he proceeds to draw open the silk brocade draperies, allowing natural light to spill into the toasty warm room. A chamber-maid enters with a tray, atop which rests a demitasse of Turkish coffee and a single freshly baked croissant sliced in half and lightly smeared with Tamaki's favorite honey from Karuizawa. He likes Japanese breakfast food, on occasion, but while he appreciates their stamina-giving properties, he can't give up the exotic brew and the simple smell and taste of the flaky brown pastry that reminds him of France.

He throws off the covers and slides his legs over the edge of the bed. Antoinette is sitting up, the tip of her tail swishing, body trembling as she waits for Tamaki to pay her some attention. _Club today and we haven't even discussed the week ahead. That's not like Kyoya, but I guess things are different now._ Memories of the evening prior come to mind and he sees his two friends together at the theater looking wonderfully cozy. Antoinette wiggles forward and shoves her nose under Tamaki's hand. He looks down into her soulful dark eyes. " _You_ love me, don't you, Antoinette?" The retriever wiggles further forward at the sound of his voice and Tamaki ruffles her ears with both hands, pats her head and stands. The chamber-maid calls her name and the honey-gold dog leaves the room with her.

He readies himself for school, then descends the wide central staircase where the household staff awaits him. The smallest, yet by far the most firm and influential member of the group is a petite woman no more than four foot ten, with gray hair and wearing a traditional kimono. It is 7:30 am, sharp, and he stops in front of her like a dutiful soldier in front of his drill sergeant. Shima gives him a once-over and nods.

"Tamaki-sama, remember your lineage and heritage."

"I do, always."

"And please conduct yourself as a fine gentleman at all times."

"Of course."

"Are you prepared for your classes?" Tamaki throws up his hands, which flail on either side of his perfectly coiffed locks.

"Shima-san," he protests with some vigor. "I have things to do before school begins."

"Very well." Shima steps back and his valet advances, sliding the blond's duffle coat onto him from behind, then handing him his muffler and gloves.

"Thank you, Kei-san." The man bows and steps back. Tamaki heads towards the door at a brisk pace.

"Tamaki-sama?" Shima calls and he stops. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Tamaki turns to see Shima holding out his bookbag and smartphone to him. His cheeks grow pink as he returns and, without looking at her, takes both with a soft, "Arigatou gozaimasu."

Shima bows and Tamaki returns the gesture before heading out the wide double doors and down the shallow stone steps. The same blue sky, pale sun and clean cold air that greeted Haruhi when she left her apartment greets Tamaki, as well. He slips inside the open door of the waiting Mercedes his grandmother allows him to use and his driver seals it shut.

In the car, he pulls from his inside blazer pocket a pair of FAD earbuds and plugs them into the smartphone. His text message count is eighteen and he's anxious to check them, but _first things first_. He begins his playlist and the first track is always the same - the voice beloved and the language French. The original CD-R is safety stowed in his personal vault where no one, not even his father, knows about it. It's a message from Anne-Sophie that she secreted into his belongings before he left for Japan, and while the message is always the same, he hears it as if new, each time:

**My dear son, my **René**. Although we are far apart, I am with you and you are with me. We can never truly be separated for our bond is indestructible. Be brave, my precious one, and know that no matter what you attempt, you will be successful; whatever you want, you deserve and it can come to you. Believe in yourself. Everything is happening as it should. Smile and know that even when things seem difficult, you are moving forward. Do not be bitter or angry and always look for the best in others for that's when you will be ** _**your** _ **best self. Think of me and know that I love you very much. Maman.**

The words cease and he listens as she plays the sweet melody _he_ first played for Kyoya so long ago, its tremulous notes singing as only his mother could make them sing on the piano. As the song fades into silence, his thoughts carry him into memory and simpler days that seem like a lifetime ago **...**

A small boy with flaxen hair sits at the ebony grand piano that dwarfs him and dominates the drawing room of the de Grantaine chateau. Beside him, on the over-sized upholstered piano bench, is his equally fair mother. He's no more than six, but he's fascinated by the instrument's shiny surface and pretty black and white bars that make such delightful loud sounds when he presses them hard, or the way the ones at one end sound low, like a dragon snoring, while the ones at the other end sound high, like a bird singing. It doesn't sound the same as when Maman presses them, but her fingers move so fast, he can't follow. So he begs her, every day, to teach him how to press the bars and make the sounds the same way that she does.

Finally, one day, she agrees. "But first," she says, "you must call them 'keys' and give them great respect or they will never unlock their secrets to you." Tamaki stares at her with big violet eyes and nods, quite seriously. "Shall I teach you a song you can play for Papa when he visits?"

"Oh please please, Maman."

"Ah, oui. But first, you must sing it with me."

Tamaki claps with great excitement. "What shall we sing?"

"Hmm. How about _Frère Jacques?"_

 _"_ No, no, no, no, no," he objects, curls tumbling around his ears as he shakes his head.

"Then which, mon petit chou?"

"I like 'Ah! Vous dirai-je Maman.'"

"C'est bon. I'll begin and you join me at the right time, oui?"

"Mais oui!," he declares with a big nod and bigger grin.

Anne-Sophie plays the intro to the tune that the Brits think of as "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," but which began its life in France and was exported, just like Tamaki, who knows exactly when to begin because he's sung it so many times. He waits and when his mother says, "Allons," he begins to sing in a sweet soprano that is both in pitch and well-controlled for one so young.

"Ah! Vous dirai-je Maman. [Oh! Shall I tell you, Mommy,]  
Ce qui cause mon tourment? [What is tormenting me?]  
Papa veut que je raisonne [Daddy wants me to reason]  
Comme une grande personne. [Like a grown-up person.]  
Moi, je dis que les bonbons [Me, I say that sweets]  
Valent mieux que la raison. [Are worth more than reasoning.]"

Anne-Sophie turns and throws her arms around the small boy with the angelic face and hugs him tightly, covering his face with butterfly kisses as Tamaki giggles and squirms.

And so his formal lessons begin and, perhaps, his penchant for entertaining diversions. Still, he's an excellent student and practices under his mother's tutelage every day, gaining strength and fluidity, a graceful hand with the piano and a discerning ear for fine music. Their last hour together is spent with Anne-Sophie helping him with a particularly difficult passage of a Debussy nocturne that's filled with the tender sadness they both feel, but which helps them manage the painful parting. Once in Japan, Tamaki discovers in his separate mansion a replica of the piano he'd played at home, and it's here where he practices daily, imagining that, in some way, his mother can hear him playing **...**

Tamaki hasn't been watching the screen as he listens and reminisces, but is brought back to himself when the device vibrates in short double bursts, indicating that new texts are coming in. He'd felt the same thing last evening, but turned his phone off when his father shot him a sharp look at the theater. Of course, he'd kept it out of sight for the rest of the evening, then reluctantly relinquished it to Shima as soon as they got home, just as he does every time he enters the house, only to get it back when he leaves again, by order of his grandmother, Shizue Suoh.

He reads through a dozen quips from the twins about their stalking game of Haruhi and Kyoya with Ranka in tow, apparently. _Those jack-asses. I can't believe they did that. I mean, I did too, but I was there for legit reasons. Sort of. I can just imagine what Kyoya would have done if he'd discovered them.  
_

He continues to read:

 **9:05 pm/Hika:** Why is your phone off? We know you're here!

 **9:05 pm/Kao:** Hey Boss. Call us!

Tamaki's brow furrows.

 **10:13 pm/Hika:** Senpai is down and out for the count. Haruhi and her dad are here. WTF are you? Haruhi looks great but Kyoya, not so much.

 **10:15 pm/Kao:** Kyoya-senpai is sick!

Tamaki's eyes grow wide and he forces himself to breathe. _What? Kyoya ill? Ok, stay calm, stay calm. If something were really wrong, they would have called the house, right? Not necessarily. It was late._ He reads on with a knot growing in his stomach.

 **10:54 pm/Kao:** Why is nobody answering? Not you, not Haruhi, not Mori-senpai or Honey-senpai, either. Where is everybody? Damn. I'm worried about Kyoya-senpai and now I'm worried about you, too.

 **10:58 pm/Hika:** Senpai's big bro showed up and took over. Senpai seems ok. We get sent home just when it's getting interesting. Fuck that. I want to know what happened!

There are no further messages until this morning. Tamaki is nearly beside himself, but then…

 **7:00 am/Hika:** Any word…

 **7:00 am/Kao:** …on Kyoya-senpai?

 **7:15 am/Honey:** Good morning Tama-chan! Mori and I are watching Chika-chan in a match after school. He's actually letting me go! Is Kyo-chan alright?

 **7:24 am/Mori:** HC by 4. Say hey to Kyoya-kun for me. Is he coming to school?

And finally,

 **7:50 am/Haruhi:** Senpai, please do not text me at all today. Please. Kyoya is doing okay. I'll talk to you this afternoon.

The car pulls up along the curb at school and Tamaki texts a quick missive:

 **7:55 am/To OHC:** I want details!

And

 **7:56 am/To Kyo:** Talk to me. Soon!

He's angst-ridden and off his game, but it would be rude not to greet each and every student who bids him "Good morning" and "Hello!" His usual cadre of fangirls and admiring classmates surround him, drawing him into conversation about the weekend. A few mention seeing him at the ballet, but nothing more than that. The attention cheers him up a bit until he enters the salon.

The room is always a bit sad to him in the morning. Without guests and, certainly, without his friends nearby, he feels adrift. Stowing his coat, gloves and muffler in the prep room closet, he sits down at the long table where he runs his meetings, pulls out his tablet and begins his daily routine, trying to keep his nerves under control as he waits for Kyoya to respond.

Opening an app labeled, "Courrier," he types "31st Janvier" at the top of a blank page and begins to compose in French.

**Dearest Maman,**

**I hope this day finds you well. The weather in Japan today is cold. We've had some snow, but I miss the warm days of Nice in winter. Are you there, somewhere? Papa is fine, by the way, and Grandmother talks to me, a little.**

**I miss you, Maman.**

**So much is happening and I wish I could talk to you. I know you would understand because you always do. And, well if you must know… I'm in love with someone or I think I am. I just don't know. I have all these feelings inside of me and I've never been in love before, not really. Do you think about the person all of the time? Do you want to whisk them away and be alone with them whenever you see them? Does your heart break every time you think of that person because you don't think they love you back? Please tell me, Maman.**

**Your loving son,**

****René** **

Kyoya's theme sounds on his phone and he picks it up from the table, fumbling with the device and nearly dropping it. "Kyoya? Is that you? Is everything okay? I heard you were sick last night. Is it your blood pressure or your migraines? Are you coming to school? I'm worried sick! Kyoya? Are you there?"

"I'm here, you moron," comes the sardonic voice of the brunet. "Please stop yelling and take a breath." Kyoya's voice is an instant tonic for the blond, whose shoulders drop with a deep sigh of relief. "Tamaki?" Kyoya asks. "Are you at school?"

"I'm in the prep room. I was so worried about you. I heard you were sick and you weren't answering your phone. Are you really ok?"

"This morning, yes. My blood pressure took a dive last night and I passed out, but only for a little while. Tachibana was there and Yuuichi showed up. I'm fine."

"Haruhi was there, too, I guess." It pains him, just a little, to say that.

"We were together when it occurred, along with Ryoji-san and those evil doppelgängers who I will personally take care of later today," Kyoya says, his irritation with that part of the evening clear.

"I heard about that." Tamaki fidgets, uncertain of what to say, an unusual state of being for the blond. "Ummm…Kyoya? Why don't you come up? We never did get to discuss this week's club activities and…" his voice trails off before he adds, "I want to see you."

"I should be there any minute." He pauses, then adds, "Tamaki - we need to talk."

"I know," the blond says his worry rising at the serious tone of Kyoya's voice. "I'll make tea."

"Fine. I missed mine this morning. I'm hanging up." Kyoya disconnects and Tamaki just stares at the phone, his heart beginning to pound. Rising from his chair, he goes to the sink where he fills and plugs in the electric kettle. He understands that their conversation will be about much more than club activities. Much, much more. It thrills and terrifies him, freezing him in place as he stares at nothing in particular.

_It's not like things are ruined between Kyoya and me, is it? He seemed ok on Saturday night and I was just a little surprised when I found out he was taking Haruhi out on a date. I mean, I should have seen that coming, but …well…I didn't. So now the thing to do is just be fine with it. Really. I'm okay with my best friend and my best girl being a couple, eh?_

He breathes a resigned sigh and is peaceful for about ten seconds.

_But_ _I can't just let it go! I want him so much I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't bear not to ever hold him in my arms again now that I know what it's like. And he wasn't faking it on Friday. He wanted me the same way I wanted him._

His brow wrinkles.

 _But I don't want Mommy and Daughter angry with me, either. They did look good together. Haruhi looked spectacular at dinner, but what the hell happened at intermission? One minute, she's a boyish friend and the next, she's a femme fatale. I'll have to speak to her about revealing clothing._ Arms are crossed over his chest and his foot taps the floor. _That bustier was absolutely inappropriate. Who chose that for her? No way Ranka would. Hmm. Kyoya? We'll see about that._

"What are you thinking about?" comes Kyoya's smooth voice and Tamaki jumps, spinning about to see the calm, cool and collected brunet standing in the doorway of the prep room.

 _No…I can't let this get out of hand. I'm...ok._ _It's just Kyoya. Calm down. No, but it's_ _Kyoya_ _. Can I do this?_

And in the back of his mind, like a whisper on the wind, he hears his mother's voice:

**Believe in yourself. Everything is happening as it should.**

_I so hope you're right._ He flashes his friend a brilliant smile. _  
_

End - Chapter 30 - Hourglass

* * *

Hourglass by Mindy Gledhill [AnneSophie-centric]

Little boy, when you speak,  
I can't help but kiss your cheeks.  
I love the way you grab my hands  
And tell me all about your plans.

Rocket high, comets fly.  
You and I could hitch a ride  
And fly away to Neverland  
And give our best to Peter Pan.

CHORUS:  
When you reach for the stars,  
Don't forget who you are  
And please don't turn around  
and grow up way too fast.  
See the sand in my grasp  
From the first to the last;  
Every grain becomes a memory of the past.  
Oh, life's an hourglass.  
Life's an hourglass.

Story's read, prayer is said.  
Close your eyes, sleepyhead,  
While angels linger in your dreams  
And hold you in their feathered wings.  
Just like you, I was small  
Not that long ago at all.  
I wish you all the happiness  
That God gives freely, if you ask.

CHORUS

Life's an hourglass.


	31. The Heart Never Lies

_What am I thinking about? You, Kyoya. You and me. Can't you tell?_

Tamaki wishes he could say the words aloud and hear Kyoya admit the same. Instead, for once, he keeps his counsel and simply says, "Nothing," as casually as he can, knowing that Kyoya is an expert at seeing through façades, except when it came to seeing through the unwitting façade of Tamaki-the-ladies'-man.

Homosexual. The word still sounds like it belongs to someone else, not himself; but newly self-christened is he, proven to himself by weeks of soul-searching, online research, a backseat tryst and the way his heart has started pounding upon seeing the young man of his dreams enter the room. Scientific? No. Reality? Yes.

Tamaki turns back to the kettle, his smile fading as he pours water gently over the tea leaves at the bottom of each mug - mugs he'd bought for just Kyoya's and his use two years ago. Of course, they're bright yellow, each displaying a large, black kanji character for "Mom" and "Dad," respectively. _I wonder if he'll make anything out of that, now. Or maybe it's good that we have such a bond._

Setting the mugs on the table, he turns towards Kyoya and stops moving to simply watch his best friend in profile as he sets his bookbag on the floor and removes his coat, hanging it beside Tamaki's in the wardrobe. The blond watches him move and remembers - how it felt to unbutton his shirt and feel his smooth skin beneath his fingers. Kyoya's lithe frame belied his strength as he wrestled Tamaki in the car and the blond still feels him beneath him, feels Kyoya's hand moving down his body to caress him.

"I want to feel my hand on you, not over you."

Tamaki focuses on the mouth that said those words, the lips he wants to kiss again. Breath grows shorter as he recalls even more intimate contact and desire rises of its own accord. His feet seem to have the same independent spirit as he approaches Kyoya, silently and steadily. He's only a few feet away when the brunet stills.

"Sit down, Tamaki. Please," Kyoya remands in a soft, but firm voice without looking at him.

Tamaki's brow wrinkles. _What am I doing? Am I really so stupid? I told him on Saturday that he didn't have to worry about me and yet, here I am, about to throw caution to the wind and at school, no less! I've always been myself with Kyoya and now I'm second guessing everything. I hate it._

He's distressed, but takes a seat, pushing one mug towards the chair where he wants Kyoya to sit, the seat closest to where he takes his usual place at the head of the table. _It is Daddy's place, after all._

Kyoya approaches and sits at one side, an empty chair between them, then pulls his mug towards himself and takes a sip, his fingers gripping the mug handle a bit too tightly. He sets it down, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic before he lifts his eyes to Tamaki's, glances down and to the right, then back.

_Am I imagining things or is he just a little off kilter?_

"Thank you, Tamaki, for the tea and… for not pushing things."

 _Ever cool, Kyoya, but..._ "How-?"

"Do I know you're still thinking about Friday night? You're an open book right now. And I know what you want, but I came here to say-"

"It can't happen. I know, I know." Tamaki looks down and his resignation seems sincere, allowing Kyoya's shoulders to ease a bit.

"You're right, Kyoya, but I… I…" he fumbles, an index finger rubbing an imaginary spot on the table, his full mouth pursed with mild petulance, unable to let what he knows could be between them slip away without Kyoya admitting his feelings or allowing one last embrace. _At the very least._ He looks up, his "puppy eyes" holding sweet longing and a trace of seduction. Behind the glint of his lenses, Kyoya's argument is weakened by memories of his own. He takes another sip of tea as Tamaki focuses on him _._

_I could have any girl I choose, maybe even a few boys; but I want you, Kyoya. Don't you want me?_

"Tamaki," Kyoya begins and pauses to collect his thoughts, "what happened the other night was a faux pas. Nothing more or less. Chalk it up to the beers, hormones, curiosity, whatever you want to call it is fine with me. Just...please don't turn it into something it wasn't, it isn't and can never be. Not if you value our friendship."

 _A faux pas?_ Tamaki's face reddens and he says with more emphasis than intended, "If  you value our friendship then you'll hear what I have to say before you shut us down."

Kyoya shakes his head. "There is no us, outside of friendship. You see that, don't you?" But his tone of voice reveals a shred of doubt.

Tamaki takes in a slow breath and releases it, immediately understanding even if Kyoya doesn't, that his toe is in the door. _I have to approach this logically. It's the only thing Kyoya will accept right now._ "I see your point and you're right, somewhat," he says carefully.

Kyoya's chin drops and he pushes at his glasses. "Somewhat?"

"I mean, it would be awkward for everyone if they knew we'd done what we'd done, though I don't think anyone would really mind."

"Except one."

"Haruhi?"

"Don't you agree?"

"I don't know. Didn't you say something to her about it?"

It's Kyoya's turn to look away. "I didn't see it as having merit, considering how early in our relationship we are."

"Then you're hiding it from her," Tamaki says, "and you're not being honest. You owe her that, Kyoya. She's bound to find out and she'll be angry if you don't tell her - sooner, than later."

Kyoya's face turns back, a hint of pique flashing in his eyes. "Or what? You'll tell her?"

"She won't believe it unless it comes from you. You know that."

"And what, exactly, would be the point?" Tamaki hears Kyoya's exasperation, but also his veiled worry.

"I just think that you should be clear on who you want to be with."

"I'm clear on who I want to be with," Kyoya avers, his temper beginning to show.

"Are you sure about that?"

Kyoya pauses a few seconds longer than necessary, then says, "So, you think I should tell Haruhi what happened in the limo and tell you what happened between her and me on Sunday afternoon?" The violet eyes widen and Kyoya realizes his error as soon as the words leave his lips. "Dammit," he mutters.

"You were with her on Sunday afternoon?" _Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.  
_

"Just so I could ask Ryoji-san's permission to take her out."

Tamaki's thoughts are racing, imagining then disavowing potential scenarios, all of which end up with Kyoya and Haruhi in one another's arms. "Doesn't he work on Sunday afternoons?"

"He came home," Kyoya replies with a straight face.

 _Typical Ootori dodge._ "You were with Haruhi alone for awhile though, weren't you?" In the silence that follows, Tamaki is tempted to ask, _Just how far did you get with her?_

It's not an unusual question, just unusual circumstances; the "rule" between the friends being to detail only casual contacts, their station in life providing ample opportunity with any number of willing, but casual girls who draw the line well before ingress. _It's part of making every girl happy._ He pauses. 'C _ept I've never felt... heat… with any girls; just Kyoya. So that's what he felt with Momiji? Did she feel the same? But Haruhi? She's quite a bit younger and..._

 _"_ I can't imagine her going further than a few kisses," he opines. "Not right away; maybe not for a good long while." The thought of having an edge over the petite brunette through sex crosses his mind, but his sly hopes are dashed as Kyoya throws daggers with his eyes and Tamaki cringes. _Maybe he really is psychic._

"Don't even go there," Kyoya growls. "I returned an item belonging to her and we talked until Ryoji came home and I asked his permission to take Haruhi out."

Tamaki recovers quickly. "Talk. Sure. And then you took her out on a date as a boy? That seems odd." _Really odd for someone who's denying his attraction to boys._

Kyoya sighs aloud, then grows firm. "Yes, as a boy, at first. We agreed it would be best, although after what happened at the National, that's going to be difficult to maintain."

Tamaki instantly recalls the bustier he glimpsed gracing Haruhi's budding figure and the comments made by some of his "regulars" this morning:

"Who was that girl with Kyoya-kun?...She looked familiar...Does Haruhi have siblings?"

His mind had been elsewhere and he hadn't answered. _Now it makes sense, but what about the club? What's going to happen?_

Kyoya is still speaking _._ "I'd made other plans, but we ended up at Lotus, which in hindsight was not one of my better ideas though I suppose the meds were having an effect."

"Oh, right." All at once, Tamaki's split train of thought is further divided by the reminder that Kyoya wasn't feeling well last night _. How could I forget that?_ "Which- Which meds?" he asks, genuinely concerned.

"Something new Yuuichi prescribed for my migraines, one of which I most certainly had after speaking with all of you on that wonderful con-call you initiated."

"Oh. That. Sorry?" Tamaki tilts his head, genuinely contrite.

Kyoya puts up a hand. "My pressure dropped a bit too much and I fainted."

"The twins told me."

"Of course they did. I might just as well have had Haruhi and myself on the Tokyo Dome Jumbotron for everyone's viewing pleasure. Haven't any of you ever heard of privacy?'" Kyoya is annoyed but conversing and that's all Tamaki wants, for now.

"I wasn't spying on you, Kyoya."

"Maybe I buy that, but-" Kyoya holds up a finger. "No, but speaking of spying, what the hell were you trying to do at the restaurant? Did you want me to wring your neck in public because I was just about to do it when Haruhi intervened."

Tamaki's defenses rear up and his voice raises. "Well, you were out of touch all day. Then you rush me off the telephone instead of planning the week with me, as we usually do. And finally, you act really mean towards me when I approach you two."

Kyoya's demeanor remains cool on the surface, but Tamaki sees the raised hand drop and the fingers slowly drum the table. "What did you think I was going to do? Invite you to sit down with my date and myself? Of course, I didn't have to because you invited yourself, didn't you?"

Tamaki pauses, then says, "I admit that was rude, but Haruhi didn't seem to mind."

"She's innocent that way. I, on the other hand, am not. And, to be honest, you weren't particularly friendly towards her either, in spite of your flattery."

Tamaki looks troubled by that. "It was a drive-by chat," he says in an ameliorating tone. "I was having dinner with my father and I happened to run into you." And then, as if the two of them were having a routine chat, he adds, "How did Haruhi like the ballet?"

"And now you've changed the subject, as usual."

"So, what do _you_ want to talk about? Friday night?"

The tapping fingers stop and splay against the tabletop, arched with tension. "Sure, why not? What do you want to know?"

 _This is it._ "The truth."

"I don't lie, Tamaki, and I've never lied to you."

"No, you just avoid revealing the truth, don't you? And you still don't trust me completely, even now. Or maybe especially now? I never really know what you're thinking or feeling and I certainly don't know your feelings towards me now - not really." _Though you know mine._

Kyoya stands abruptly, pressing his hands to the table. "It's what's kept us friends for nearly three years and kept the Host Club going, hasn't it?" he demands, his frustration wearing his control thin.

Tamaki stops cold, a quick intake of air turning his heated blood to ice in his veins. The atmosphere in the room has shifted and the two friends are focused only on one another and the import of their words.

"What do you mean?" Tamaki asks quietly. Kyoya won't meet his eyes, so he continues. "You're telling me that you've been less than honest with me on a regular basis? About what? For how long?

"It isn't like that."

"No? So be honest with me, right now. What were you thinking on Friday night?"

"I wasn't, that's the point."

"I don't believe you. You're always thinking, Kyo, and you made a conscious choice."

"Conscious, maybe. Sober, no."

Tamaki stands, his fists balled up at his sides, his eyes filled with anger and hurt. "Sober or not, we hooked up. And now you're telling me that it meant nothing?"

"I'm not saying that."

"That I was just a convenient, feel-good lapse of drunken judgment? Is that it? Is that what you're going to tell Haruhi?"

"It's true, isn't it?"

"You bastard!" he shouts, eyes blazing, then storms towards the tall windows, his back to Kyoya to hide his pained expression.

Uncounted minutes tick by, each one considering what's come before, what it means and what's to come. Emotions are foremost for Tamaki, consequences for Kyoya. They are two sides of the same coin, spinning so rapidly that neither face can be seen with any accuracy or predictability. Staring at the snow dusted grounds misting in the the warming air, Tamaki considers a question.

"So, tell me, Kyo," he says in a delicate manner, eyes averted, "You're saying that it could have been anyone in the car and you would have done the same thing?"

"I'm not saying that at all," comes the equally controlled answer.

Tamaki faces the room and sees Kyoya standing beside the table, his hands holding the back of his chair. "Then what?" Tamaki asks, emotional once more. "You felt sorry for me? Pity the gay boy. Give him a thrill?"

"No," Kyoya says, sounding hurt by the barb.

"You're such a hypocrite," the blond accuses.

Kyoya strides towards where Tamaki stands in a nonchalant pose, feigning disinterest despite the mixture of fear and bravado that grips him at Kyoya's approach.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyoya demands in a soft voice that's more threatening than if he shouted.

"I said, that you are, a Class 1A, hypocrite," comes the sarcastic reply.

"How's that?" Kyoya's eyes narrow, his aura darkening.

And then, without further thinking, Tamaki steps forward and pushes Kyoya back by the arms and against the wall beside the window, hard, pinning his chest with his own, one leg pressed between Kyoya's two. The brunet's surprise is expected, his quick breathing a welcome sign but beyond that, Kyoya doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't do anything. _Just like it was on Friday._

At close proximity and having Kyoya's body against his again, Tamaki's skin flushes with a heat he now recognizes. "We weren't that drunk and you wanted it," he breathes into Kyoya's ear. "You felt so good to me, Kyo. We can feel that way again. Admit it. You wanted me then and you still want me now."

"No," Kyoya says low, turning his face away.

"Look in my eyes and tell me you don't want me."

"I'm with Haruhi now."

Tamaki pulls his head back and looks at the brunet's profile. "For how long? You know your family won't accept her or Ranka."

Kyoya looks past Tamaki's shoulder. "Untrue. My father is an ass, but he respects diligence and ambition. Haruhi has both. He'll come to accept her."

"What about Ranka?"

"My father doesn't have to know."

"Ever?" Tamaki chuffs. "Who are you kidding? And even if he accepts Haruhi as your girlfriend, it won't lead to anything more than that. It's a dead-end."

The brunet turns his head and finds himself nose to nose with the blond, who presses closer, a familiar thigh against his groin. "Are you saying he'll accept you being with me?" Kyoya queries. "Who are you kidding?"

Tamaki's head angles, pressing two soft lips against Kyoya's in a desperately savored kiss. With his eyes still closed and his heart beating against Kyoya's, he murmurs,"We can manage it. I know we can." His lips take Kyoya's again, but the brunet remains unresponsive. Tamaki opens his eyes to see Kyoya's blank expression. _Merde._

He releases his breath and his hold. Kyoya pushes out from the wall and away. He doesn't go far before he turns and in a soft voice Tamaki can't ever remember hearing from his friend, Kyoya says, "You deserve better than a secret life, Tamaki. You deserve to be cared for by someone who can give you what you need and wants to be with you for the right reasons."

"Don't you?"

"It's impossible."

"Kyoya," he says and his voice is filled with his yearning and true affection for the brunet who, he knows, has endured much under his family's rigid hold. _If not for them?_

"No, Tamaki."

"What about Haruhi? Will you tell her?"

"Yes."

"What if she wants nothing more to do with you?"

"I…" Kyoya's brow furrows and his voice trails off as he ponders the possibility.

"If that happens…"

The clocktower's three-quarter chime sounds and both of them just stare at one another. Tamaki realizes he hadn't even registered the quarter or half-hour marks.

"We have class," Kyoya says simply and heads to the wardrobe where he picks up his bookbag and waits just inside the open door for his friend. Tamaki grabs his own bookbag and joins him, wondering if Kyoya's statement is meant to be factual or descriptive.

They walk side by side through the salon. "You never finished your tea," the blond remarks. "How come you missed it this morning?"

Kyoya throws a quizzical sideways glance at the erratic young man beside him, irritated but accustomed to it. "I sent my car to pick up Haruhi this morning and she had it, instead."

"You did that for her?"

"I told you I care about her, didn't I?"

 _You do, don't you? And the party is coming up this weekend._ "Are we still on for the weekend?"

"Of course."

The two young men regard one another at the salon's double doors, friendship teetering but hearts still entwined, if not their hands. "I like that you're taking good care of her," Tamaki says, surprised at the words that tumble from his mouth. _But they're true. She's still my best girl, no matter what._

The brunet stares at the blond, completely baffled at his mercurial nature. He shakes himself into reality and says, "We still need to discuss club, you know."

"Maybe we can just do beverages and sweets today. I'm not up for cosplay."

"Fine, we'll keep it simple and talk more later."

The double doors silently ease close after their departure. What they fail to notice are the ginger-headed 1st-years who peek out from behind the draperies behind which the grand piano is kept.

They push back the heavy brocade fabric, each carrying several plump garment bags, filled with costumes they'd helped their mother put together for a future club event. Their intention? To drop off the items and head to class, without much further ado. Instead, they found themselves unwitting eavesdroppers on a conversation that wasn't meant for their ears, or anyone else's.

They turn towards one another with large wide eyes, then away - one of them smirking and the other deeply troubled.

End - Chapter 31 - The Heart Never Lies

* * *

 **The Heart Never Lies** by McFly [Tamaki-centric]

Some people laugh, some people cry.  
Some people live, some people die.  
Some people run right into the fire and  
Some people hide their every desire.  
But we are the lovers.  
If you don't believe me,  
Then just look into my eyes  
'cause the heart never lies.

Some people fight, some people fall.  
Others pretend they don't care at all.  
If you wanna fight, I'll stand right beside you.  
The day that you fall I'll be right behind you  
To pick up the pieces.  
If you don't believe me,  
Just look into my eyes  
'cause the heart never lies.

Woah (2x)

Another year over and we're still together.  
It's not always easy, but I'm here forever.  
Yes, we are the lovers.  
I know you believe me  
When you look into my eyes,  
'cause the heart never lies.

'Cause the heart never lies.

Yeah, because the heart never lies.


	32. Follow You

The sun yellow Mazda RX-7 that sits in front of the Haninozuka home seems out of place in the posh residential neighborhood carved out of the side of a cliff overlooking Tokyo. Still, its hefty price tag makes it a welcome guest, if not a permanent fixture. Mori sits behind the wheel, shades on, while Alice Nine's talented bassist vibrates the interior.

Honey comes bounding out of the front doors, his Ouran duffle unbuttoned at the neck to allow for the chunky knit scarf that wraps around his neck several times in multi-hued brilliance. He pulls open the low-slung door of the sports car and slides into the bucket seat.

"Ohayo, Takashi!"

"Ohayo," comes the terse reply as they pull away from the curb and Mori turns down the sound system so they can talk. _You seem happy and well, Mitsukuni. Good._

"I'm totally psyched about today, aren't you?" Honey says, his excitement palpable.

"It's Monday."

"So?"

"You know I don't like Mondays."

"Takashi," the golden-headed boy warns, "You know I don't like it when you sulk."

Mori keeps his eyes on the road, but finds it difficult to hold back a small smile. "Fine. I'm happy it's Monday," he replies without rancor. _You always know how to cheer me up._

"And why is that?" the small boy coaxes.

"Because Host Club meets today."

"That's right!" Honey beams. "And there'll be lots of cake to eat when we get there. 'Cept I'm a little worried about that. If we get there too late, then the cake might all be gone and even if some is left, there might not be enough of my favorite kind, or a guest might want to have that piece and then I'll have to share. I don't mind sharing. It's just that I won't have had any cake since breakfast and I know I'll want to have a great big piece just for me and Usa-chan. I've tried the third-sies thing and that doesn't work out so well, y'know?"

"I recall…"

_That and the cavity that created a scene. It hasn't happened again and I'm going to make sure it never does. How could I live with myself otherwise?_

"So, it's settled. I'll call home and have our patissière bring cake from home." Mori groans inwardly as Honey continues, "In fact, I'll have her bring three - one for me, one for Usa-chan and one for you. Okay?" Honey's rambling is a blend of whimsy and addiction, something the tallest host knows well, knowing equally well how things unfolded the last time he got between his cousin and his sweets.

 _There's just no stopping him._ "Remember to brush your teeth."

"I will," Honey perks and settles back into the black leather upholstery, fussing with Usa-chan.

Mori turns up the sound again and the two cousins ride in a companionable silence, Honey singing in his boy soprano the chorus of "Rainbows" thrumming through the car. As they head into the area of the city where Ouran is located, Honey turns the music off, then turns towards Mori saying, "What do you think Tama-chan meant by, 'I want details?'"

 _Duh._ Mori shakes his head and shrugs. "I figure he wants to know about the date between Haruhi and Kyoya. There were a couple of texts from Kaoru last night saying Kyoya wasn't feeling well, though how he knew that, I don't know."

"Knowing Kao-chan and Hika-chan, I think they did a little spying. That's what I think."

"They're smarter than that, aren't they?"

"You'd think so, but you never know with them."

 _If we don't intervene today, it's going to be a bloodbath and I'm not in the mood._ "Kyoya did ask us to keep things cool and we will."

"That's right. I hope Kyo-chan is okay." Honey sounds worried.

 _Low blood pressure is dangerous._ "I'm sure Tachibana was there."

"That's true, so I guess he's okay. I wonder if he's coming to school."

Mori turns his head briefly to throw an incredulous look over the shades at the loli-shota. "This is Kyoya we're talking about."

"I know."

"He doesn't miss school." _Never, ever._

"Remember when he competed in Osaka and the earthquake kept him from getting home?"

A small nod. _True._ "I remember that. Is he still practicing kyudo?"

"Sure. He told me the other day that there's a ceremonial match coming up in April. He's invited us to attend."

 _Sounds good, but…_ "Is that before or after graduation?"

"Oh," Honey rues as he considers the possibility. "I don't know. We can ask him today."

"As long as he comes to Club." _I'll have to be sure that Tamaki doesn't grouse him too much. He can be a bit much, even if Kyoya is used to it._

"Okay!" The blond watches the landscape grow dense with buildings and traffic as they near Academy. "I wonder if they had a good time," he muses to no one in particular.

"What are you talking about?"

"Kyo-chan and Haru-chan. They make a nice couple."

"They do."

"Do you really think Tama-chan will mind if they start dating?"

"That may or may not be happening, Mitsukuni. It might only be one date."

"Well, at least he gets to go on one," mumbles the small host.

 _Huh?_ "Tamaki sounded pretty miffed on the phone yesterday and just what do you mean by that last comment?" Mori's voice offers no indication of his mood, his statements seemingly grounded in simple curiosity.

"Oh, nothing."

"Mitsukuni-"

"Oh, fine. I've been meaning to tell you this for some time, Takashi, but I keep holding back."

"Holding back on what?"

"Dating."

"Dating?"

"I mean that every time I get close to a girl, you give me ten reasons why she isn't good enough for me."

"Because they aren't."

"I don't think that's for you to decide, Takashi." The 3rd-year's tone is decidedly firm.

_Where did that come from?_

Mori's brows knit and he squares his shoulders, keeping his eyes on the road as they slide into a queue of vehicles slowing passing beneath one of the enormous wrought iron arches bedecked with black and gold scroll work that signal Ouran Academy. He remains silent, his unwillingness to head into what is suddenly a sensitive subject between the cousins.

"Besides," Honey says after the silence becomes uncomfortable, "even if they do start dating, it's Haruhi, not some random girl that'll try to keep Kyoya away from his Host Club responsibilities or us."

"You think that's it? He's worried about the club?" _You don't get it, do you, Mitsukuni?_

"You know he's all about 'the family' thing."

"He is." _Too much so, sometimes._

"And Kyo-chan is the closest thing he has to a brother or a cousin here."

"Uh-huh. Honestly, I don't know how he manages."

"Kyo-chan?"

"Tamaki. I can't imagine not having family around to turn to when things get tough or you just need some company." _Poor guy._

Honey nods his agreement. "Must be awfully lonely in that big house all by himself." The blond's empathy shines through his words.

"Is it any worse than what Kyoya has to deal with every day?"

"Kyo-chan's brothers aren't so bad."

"Sure they are. I could never snub my brother the way his brothers do him."

"That's true. And Sato-chan adores you."

The brunet smiles. "He's a good kid and I'm his older brother. I have to look out for him."

"I want to look out for Chika, but he's such a hard head."

 _So are you, in your way_. "Are you still going to his match today?"

"Yup. I know we don't always get along, but things are getting better. Oh! That reminds me. Are you going to meet me at the dojo or in the salon?"

"Dojo. I promised to stop by the Animal Breeding Club to see their newest brood hatch. Satoshi says the eggs are beginning to show signs and I'd like to see that. But then I'll be there."

"See? That's what I mean. You and I have brothers we can share our lives with."

"Maybe you're right about Tamaki and Kyoya."

"They're pretty close."

"I can't remember Kyoya letting anybody get close to him before Tamaki showed up and started the club."

"Maybe Tama-chan's worried that Haru-chan will take his place."

Mori's lips purse, considering Honey's words as he pulls into his designated parking spot and removes his shades. "Unless…" he begins, then pauses, voice trailing off. _You know the truth, don't you? I've always known._

Honey looks at Usa-chan's face, passive but for one arched brow, then back to stare into Mori's eyes. "Unless….?"

 _How do I say this without it sounding like a judgment, which it's not?_ "All that European flair isn't just European flair."

"You don't think…?" Honey doesn't need to finish as Mori's insinuation clarifies.

"Think about it." _How could you_ _not_ _know?_ Mori cuts the engine, his hands remaining on the wheel. _Think, Mitsukuni._ "It makes sense, from a certain point of view."

"Nah. I think Tama-chan is just a lonely guy who says how he feels and that's why Kyoya was angry with him on the phone."

"Sure," Mori nods in assent. "Probably," he adds, cocking his head. And then, "Maybe." He turns in his seat and looks into Honey's wide eyes.

"You think he's...jealous...that way?" The inflection at the end of his brief question bespeaks his surprise.

"Why not? You said it yourself: 'They're pretty close.'"

"Ta…ka…shi," the blond begins, his serious side emerging, "If that's true, then things in the salon today are going to be tense."

"Uh-huh. And it's up to us to keep things cool and on track, for everyone's sake. I'm sure that's what Kyoya was implying when he asked that of us."

Honey gives a definitive nod and small grunt, his expression then shifting from determined to worried.

"What is it, Mitsukuni?"

The blond hefts a deep sigh and looks down into Usa-chan's face. "I'm always extra hungry when I'm worried about something and I know I'm going to be thinking about this all day today. I better let my patissière bring four cakes, instead of three." His concerned face brightens. "Okay Usa-chan?" the blond says to the beaming bunny before opening the car door and stepping up into the crisp, cold air.

Mori remains staring at the empty seat beside him for a few seconds to digest what they've just discussed. It's not that he doesn't, won't or can't accept it, but how such a twist will effect club dynamics is at the forefront of his mind.

_I promised myself when I joined that I would protect the Host Club from anyone who means it harm, for Mitsukuni's sake. And now it's for everyone's sake. I always thought harm would come from outsiders who didn't like us or didn't understand us. But what if the danger of demolition lurks within?_

The 3rd-year pulls his thoughts into the present, throws his keys into his bookbag and throws open the car door. He unwinds himself out of the vehicle with a regal grace despite his height and build. Honey waits at the front of the vehicle and without a word, places the handle of his bookbag into Mori's outstretched hand.

Tucking both bookbags under one arm, balancing them on his hip neatly, Mori walks beside Honey towards the Central Salon. Many of their classmates are heading in the same direction and rightly so. Soon-to-be graduates, their morning agenda includes a class-level assembly to discuss the final weeks of high school, final exams and preparations for college or the gap between Japanese freshman year and other countries' freshman beginnings.

Honey seems to have absorbed their conversation without fuss as he skips ahead, dawdles or simply keeps pace with his taller companion. He gives boisterous greetings to other students they encounter, whether he knows them or not. Some smile, some stare and some simply turn away.

Most of the males accept his oddly-won charisma with grace, their girlfriends' and fiancées' opinions holding sway over their more brutish, albeit polished and competitive natures. Besides, they know better than to mess with the "HaniMori." And, to be honest, Honey is a likable chap. The females find him adorable. Honey's sweet antics and suppressed testosterone sparks budding maternal and sexual impulses within their hearts and loins. And while confusing, such yearnings fill their need to have an idol on their personal pedestals.

Mori's gentle but genuine strength and amazing scholastics have earned him the respect of both males and females throughout Ouran Academy. His uniquely magnetic quality charms the males and leaves the females swooning. Defying convention and definition, the pair known as "HaniMori" are giants among their peers academically, athletically and provocatively.

Neither host has any care for the opinions of anyone outside of their families and their closest friends. Neither do they harbor worries about any of the matters to be discussed at assembly. They are the crème de la crème, after all, and they can handle anything.

_But can the Host Club withstand Hurricane Tamaki?_

End - Chapter 32 - Follow You

* * *

Follow You \- Shinedown [Mori-centric]

If I could find assurance to leave you behind,  
I know my better half would fade.  
And all my doubt is a staircase for you  
Up and out of this maze.  
The first step is the one you believe in;  
The second one might be profound.

I'll follow you down through the eye of the storm.  
Don't worry, I'll keep you warm.  
I'll follow you down while we're passing through space.  
I don't care if we fall from grace.  
I'll follow you down.

You can have the money and the world;  
The angels and the pearls;  
Even trademark the color blue.  
Just like the tower we never built  
In the shadow of all the guilt  
When the other hand was pointed at you.  
The first step is the one you believe in;  
The second one might be profound.

I'll follow you down through the eye of the storm.  
Don't worry, I'll keep you warm.  
I'll follow you down while we're passing through space.  
I don't care if we fall from grace.  
I'll follow you down...

...to where forever lies.  
Without a doubt I'm on your side.  
There's nowhere else that I would rather be.  
I'm not about to compromise,  
Give you up to say goodbye.  
I'll guide you through the deep.  
I'll keep you close to me!

I'll follow you down through the eye of the storm.  
Don't worry, I'll keep you warm.  
I'll follow you down while we're passing through space.  
I don't care if we fall from grace.  
I'll follow you.

If I could find assurance to leave you behind,  
I know my better half would fade.  
I'll follow you down.


	33. Brave New World

**A/N:** _Italicized = Kaoru /_ _**Bold italicized = Hikaru** _

The plush carpeting under their calfskin loafers muffles sound effectively, but an unnatural silence hangs between the usually outspoken twins that has little to do with texture and everything to do with emotions. Both boys are deep in thought as they head down the wide, elegant staircase bustling with activity.

Blurs of blue and yellow fill their peripheral vision but they barely notice. They're headed with equal intensity towards Class 1-A, each bent on something, though neither knows exactly what they will do once they get there. Their insular history raises no brows among their peers who are accustomed to the Hitachiins' unique brand of togetherness, but the differences in their usually mirrored expressions suggest a rift between the brothers and that is an oddity.

_The Boss is gay and that's cool. I kinda suspected all along, but Kyoya? That doesn't make sense. I've never gotten that vibe. I mean, come on, senpai. When did this hookup take place? Last week, last month, last year? When? And what about Haruhi? She was so excited yesterday and she looked great. You've shot down Hika's chances, Kyoya, and if you hurt Haruhi's feelings, you'll have to answer to me. Frankly, I don't know whose feelings I'm more worried about - Hika's or Haruhi's._

They file into their classroom where they're greeted by Momoka, Renge and a few other classmates. The sunshine that streams through the windows belies the chill air beyond, though a chill of quite a different sort hovers between the brothers. Kaoru's spirits lift a bit as his classmates press around him and he smiles and waves a greeting, stopping to chat as Hikaru ignores them, heading straight to his desk and pulling out his smartphone. He begins texting and Kaoru eyes him warily.

_You better not be doing some boneheaded thing, brother._

"Is Hikaru feeling ok?" Momoka asks with a worried glance at the ginger whose fingers furiously fly. "He seems awfully distracted this morning."

Renge ponders her classmate's words. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that the two of you are in a snit. So what's going on? Curious minds need to know what's up with the infamous Hitachiin brothers from the even more infamous Host Club."

"He's fine," Kaoru reassures, though less than certain. "He's just being a grouch this morning." _Please, Hika, be smart. Don't say anything to anyone until we know what's really happening_.

"I thought that was only the case for Kyoya and Honey," Renge says in a way that suggests she has inside information. And Momoka does, indeed, seem mildly impressed by the animated blond's knowledge about their favorite club. Having gotten someone's attention, Renge flips her hair over one shoulder and says, "And speaking of Kyoya, I heard that he was out with someone last night who looked a lot like a certain other Host. What do you know about that, Kaoru? I'll find out sooner or later so you might as well tell me now."

The smartphone in Kaoru's inside breast pocket vibrates in a familiar pattern. "Sorry, Renge. I don't know what you're talking about," he says, disengaging from the group.

Watching him move away, Renge turns to Momoka and says sotto voce, "Something's up and that means it'll all come out in the salon this afternoon." Then, in a more devious sounding voice adds, "I can't wait!" Momoka looks intrigued.

Kaoru stops at his desk and hangs his bookbag on its golden hook at the side of the desktop. Taking out his Geometry textbook and netbook, he links to the desktop portal and sends the weekend's assignment to the teacher's file.

"Kao-ru," Hikaru sings in a two-note cadence under his breath as said namesake's phone continues vibrating its insistence. Kaoru turns his head to see his brother staring up at him, head tipped to one side with a mischievous smile on his lips.

_Don't give me those pretty eyes, Hikaru. It doesn't work on me anymore. But what_ _ are _ _you planning?_

The younger Hitachiin is still vulnerable to the elder Hitachiin's long-standing sway, but he's beginning to come into his own. His boyish crush on Haruhi has morphed into a friendship he treasures, her influence so transformative that he no longer looks to Hikaru to validate every decision he makes, but relies on his own judgment more and more. Yet, with a deep sigh, Kaoru pulls out his phone and reads the text, knowing he's being closely watched.

 **Hika:** Kyoya is probably pissed about last night, but we've got the goods on him. What do you think we should we do about that? Hmmmmm?

Hikaru's response to Kaoru's move towards greater independence has also shifted, albeit with less enthusiasm, to altering his step from one ahead of his brother to walking alongside, allowing Kaoru's practical wisdom to penetrate his hyperactive mind but for the occasions when his emotions are riled - like now - and his actions become unpredictable.

Kaoru fights the urge to succumb to his twin's whims, but old habits die hard. Walking over to Hikaru's desk, he keeps his back to the rest of the room and whispers, "You're not planning on doing something stupid, are you?"

In a slightly louder voice, Hikaru responds, "What do mean, stupid? You heard the same thing I did."

Kaoru shakes his head. "It was a fragment that could mean anything, and lower your voice, please."

Hikaru looks disgruntled, but he does. "So? Don't you think an explanation is in order?

"It's not our business."

"If this is how you act as Haruhi's big bro, you need lessons."

"I'm thinking about Haruhi."

"Right, so when a guy who claims to like her is messing around behind her back you do…what?"

"We don't know that Kyoya and Tamaki are messing around."

"So what do you think is going on between them?"

Kaoru is about to reply when he hears Haruhi's voice and nearly jumps out of his skin. She's greeting their classmates in her usual cheerful manner.

_She doesn't sound upset.  
 **She's here.**_

Hikaru is peering around Kaoru to look at the girl whose glamorous appearance of the evening prior has returned to her more customary laid-back style. With her male uniform donned, hair simply styled and sans makeup, she looks like the Haruhi they know and love. Hikaru looks up at Kaoru who hisses, "Don't say anything about anything to her."

"Me? I won't say a word." _**Out loud, that is.**_

"Good!" Kaoru turns in place with a smile while Haruhi begins setting up her desktop.

"Ohayo, Haruhi," the twins greet in unison.

She doesn't look at either one of them as she politely replies, "Ohayo, Kaoru, Hikaru."

The twins look at one another in sudden synchronization. Something is bothering Haruhi even if she's trying to hide it. Kaoru moves towards his desk. _Does she know?_

"So what happened after we left last night?" Hikaru inquires in a less-than-innocent tone of voice. Kaoru throws daggers with his eyes and Hikaru mugs back at him.

"Is Kyoya okay?" Kaoru asks.

Without looking at either one of them, Haruhi replies, "Yes, and he's coming to school today. His older brother took care of him and Hotta drove us home. You do realize that I'm not speaking to either one of you, right?"

Hikaru's gloating face quickly grows sheepish. **_So she's still ticked._**

Kaoru's shoulders drop with relief. _She's angry with us but if she's not talking to us, there's less chance for Hikaru to bungle things._

"Listen, Haruhi," Kaoru begins only to be interrupted by their math sensei entering the room. As a class, they stand and greet her with a short bow before sitting down and beginning work.

Kaoru leans over and whispers to Haruhi, "Can we talk at lunch? Please?"

Haruhi looks up at him, gives him a pointed look, then one brief nod. Kaoru breathes a sigh of relief and resumes his assignment.

_Now to keep Hikaru in check until I can figure out what's going on and what I should do about it._

Heavy notes and a review of weekend assignments preclude chatter as Ouran's secondary teachers traverse the hallways moving from classroom to classroom in rotation, the school day divided into Morning and Afternoon Sessions. Today is Day One which, for 1st-years, means Math, World History and English in the morning with Kanji and Elective in the afternoon. Day Two brings Science, Japanese History and Literature followed by Technology and Elective. After lessons comes Study Hour followed by club and sport activities after hours.

At the mid-morning break, the twins head to the Boys' Room to freshen up and check their coifs. Despite their low-level disagreement, they take the time to straighten one another's ties and dust off any unwanted particles that may have gotten onto their pristine uniforms.

"Kaoru, there's a scuff mark on your left loafer."

The ginger looks down. "Damn. And these are brand new."

"I'm sure Katsue will be able to buff it out."

"You think?"

"Of course. And you can always wear my alternate pair."

"Thanks, Hika. We're okay, right?"

"Of course we are. What are you talking about?" His tone of voice betrays neither sarcasm nor malice.

"Nothing, nothing. Let's head back."

As they walk, Hikaru says, "Did you happen to notice what's for lunch today?"

Kaoru hestitates before replying, "Umm, I promised Haruhi I would eat with her in the classroom." Hikaru stops walking and tugs on Kaoru's sleeve.

"Wait a minute…what for?"

Kaoru halts and in a soft voice says, "I just want to talk with her, is all."

"About?" The older twin is irked, though by Kaoru's ditching him for lunch or Kaoru's ambiguity is unclear.

"Hika, let me do this," Kaoru pleads. "I can smooth things over with her better than you can and you know it." Hikaru considers his brother for a few moments, then releases him.

"You're right, but that's not the only reason, eh?" **_What are you up to, Hitachiin Kaoru?_**

"What other possible motive could I have?"

Hikaru's eyes narrow. "You wouldn't be trying to disarm any unseemly gossip that might come up, would you?"

"Look, Haruhi and Kyoya were out last night and I'm sure some of our schoolmates saw them. She was pretty different than her usual self, but you know Ouran."

"Yeah, rumors fly faster than the speed of sound."

"I just thought I'd lend her some friendly support in case someone says something nasty."

"What makes you think that's going to happen?"

"C'mon, Hika. Two guys dating?"

Hika arches a brow and gives his brother a knowing look. "It's not unheard of, you know."

"It is at Ouran. We just play gay and everyone knows it. But the real thing? There are plenty of people who can't or won't understand. I don't want to see Haruhi get hurt."

"I think that's already in the works, Kao."

"Stop. Just stop, ok? I know you're jealous of Kyoya taking Haruhi out, but you had your chance with her and-" He bites back his thought.

Hikaru's eyes flash with anger. "And what, Kaoru? I blew it? How can you say that to me? You know how much I regret what happened."

"I also know that you promised Haruhi you would look after her like a brother."

"Which is exactly what I did in letting her know about our two kings' between-the-sheets activity."

Kaoru blanches. "What? You said you wouldn't say anything. When did you-?"

"When we got to class. And I didn't say a thing. I texted her phone. She's probably reading it right now." Hikaru looks away as he ponders Haruhi's possible reaction, hoping he might yet have a chance with the brunette. He turns back to face his twin, but Kaoru is already several feet ahead of him, the gap between them growing wider by the second.

"I believe class is about to begin, Hikaru," comes a deep voice speaking perfect English behind him. It's their English teacher from America.

"Yes, Tucker-sensei," he replies with a short bow and rushes after his twin.

_**Dammit, Kaoru. What's wrong with you? Haruhi needs our protection, not Kyoya. But I don't want you angry with me, either. Fuck it all. Why is everything always so complicated lately?** _

_Please, Haruhi. Don't check your phone today. Just don't._

Kaoru enters the classroom to find his worst fear unfolding before his eyes. Haruhi is standing near the window, staring at the screen of her smartphone with an odd look on her face. With little finesse and a certain amount of urgency he rushes towards her and, just before reaching her side, deliberately stumbles into her.

"Hey, watch it!" Haruhi shouts just as the phone flies from her hand and onto the marble floor with a resounding clatter and CRACK. "Oh no!"

"Sorry. Lost my balance," Kaoru explains, grabbing onto the girl to keep her upright. "Are you okay?"

With both feet on the ground, Haruhi pushes him back. "I'm fine, but I think my phone is a goner." A worried look crosses her face.

"I'll replace it. Don't you worry," Kaoru reassures as he picks up the smartphone, screen dark and looking like a topographical map. _Let's hope Hika's message wasn't the only one._ "And I'll get you one of those crash-proof cases, too."

"Better late than never, I guess," says Haruhi with a sigh. "It's just that I was in the middle of reading something."

That's when they both notice an odd quiet in the room. Together, they turn their heads to find their classmates staring at them. Before either of them have a chance to respond in word or deed, Hikaru passes by both of them, quipping, "Nice going, Kaoru. Good thing it wasn't another Renaissance vase, eh Haruhi?"

The brunette rolls her eyes and Renge approaches, taking Haruhi by the arm but staring at the twins.

"What is wrong with you two today? Whatever it is, don't drag my dearest Haruhi into it, you hear me?" The twins look at Renge and then at one another. "I said, 'Do you hear me'?" Renge repeats in a louder voice.

"Alright, that's enough," comes the voice of Tucker-sensei. "Renge, take your seat, please. Haruhi, Hitachiin brothers, you too."

"Yes, sensei," Haruhi says, chastened at being called to task. "I apologize, sensei."

"In English, please," comes the expected reply. Haruhi repeats her apology, as instructed.

"Of course you would, Haruhi, though it seems you're the one who's suffered damages. Renge? Your seat?"

"Yes, sensei. It was all the twins' fault, you know," comes the blonde's reply in crisp English, as she releases Haruhi's arm.

"I see. Thank you for your report. Anything you boys want to say to the class?" A pause and then in a firmer tone, "Hitachiin brothers?"

Still staring into one another's eyes, they chime in unison English, "We're sorry."

"Fine, but the "rrr" sound is placed further front in the mouth. Try it again, individually please."

Hikaru's annoyance has re-piqued, but he says with careful pronunciation, "I am sor-ry."

"Good. Kaoru?"

"I'm sorry, too."

"Good work. Everybody, let's log on to today's lesson." Their sensei's voice continues as the gingers take their seats and class begins.

A half hour of conversation practice with assigned partners ensues and then they're instructed to write a translation of a short passage from kanji into English. The room is quiet except for a binaurally-laden piece of music played by sensei to enhance focus.

Hikaru works diligently for a few minutes, then; bored, distracted and unable to pull out his phone or use his netbook for anything other than schoolwork, he tears a sheet of paper from his monogrammed pad, jots down a few words and folds the page into a tight triangle. When Tucker-sensei's attention is on a student asking for help, he leans over and tosses the small projectile onto Kaoru's desk.

The younger twin keeps his eyes on his work as he grabs the origami missile and slowly unfolds it beneath his desktop. When he's sure sensei isn't watching, he pulls it into his lap. There, in Hikaru's small scrawl he reads: 'This isn't over.' His brows knit and throwing caution to the wind, he lays the sheet beside his netbook and jots down a reply.

"Psst," he says behind Haruhi's back and with an outstretched hand and toss, returns the note into his brother's own extended hand. His response? 'I don't want to argue.' Between them sits Haruhi, ignoring them, unaware that she is at the heart of their conversation.

Hikaru reads Kaoru's response and with a slow shake of his head, begins to write furiously. So intense is he on what he's doing that he fails to notice someone walking swiftly down the aisle and reaching down with one large hand to grab the paper on which he writes.

"What the -!" Hikaru voices, then stops when he sees that it's sensei who's purloined his missive.

"Hikaru," Tucker-sensei says in a quiet but authoritative voice, "you're to stay in at lunch. Meet me at the teacher's office at 12:15. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sensei," comes the mollified reply. Both boys watch as the creased sheet of vellum is carried to the front of the room. As the note is placed inside a black leather briefcase, they look at one another. Kaoru's mouth quirks to one side and his fist gently pounds his chest, once, over his heart. Hikaru acknowledges their secret gesture for unity by nodding his head and mirroring the gesture.

_I don't know whether to be happy or worried. I don't know what Haruhi read or didn't read. I don't know what Hikaru wrote or didn't write. And I don't want to argue with Hikaru, but I have to do what I think is right._

_**Great. Now Kaoru gets to spend lunch with Haruhi. I hate being at odds, brother, but just whose side are you on?** _

End - Chapter 33 - Brave New World

* * *

Brave New World by Weezer [Kaoru/Hikaru-centric]

I've been scared to make a move.  
So much left for me to prove.  
I guess it's time for me to show what I've got.  
Things will never be the same.  
I may snuff the burning flame  
Or I may prove to be much more than I thought.

CHORUS:  
This is the dawning of a brave new world.  
I don't know where I'm going, but I know I'll figure it out, yeah.  
This is the dawning of a brave new world.  
No more hesitating; it's too late to turn back now, yeah.

You can come along with me  
Or, if that's not your destiny,  
you can choose to go your way if you want.  
I will send my best to you;  
There are things I have to do.  
I can't wait no more; I've got to move on.

CHORUS

It does not take this action  
To see a chain reaction.  
Everyone, blossoming in the sun.  
We'd hate to leave our shelter,  
but there's so much waiting out there.  
If only we'd open our eyes and see.  
Woah... woah... woah... woah...

CHORUS


	34. One Fine Wire

With the haunting tune of the song Kyoya chose so carefully for her still echoing in her mind and, even more so, the words that he clearly wanted her to hear and to understand, Haruhi makes her way to Music Room #3 to hang up her coat before classes begin.

… _Forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters…_

She decides that whatever it is, he'll tell her when he's ready. _I'm sure it's about his family, but lots of families have things they're not so proud about. They just hide it, hoping no one finds out. One good thing about Dad, he's never hidden anything from me nor apologized for his choices. And neither will I._

The prep room is empty but it's evident that several Club members have already been here. Two familiar House of Hitachiin garment bags hang on the cosplay rolling rack beside the changing room and two _very_ familiar mugs sit on the worktable, each half-filled with now cold tea.

"Damn rich people," she mutters under her breath. "You could have at least put them in the sink, you know," she says out loud to no one listening. She removes her coat and hangs it in the wardrobe where she notices both Tamaki-senpai's and Kyoya's duffels side by side. It's not unusual, but her mind is a-swirl with unanswered questions and the sight gives pause. _I'm sure Dad is wrong about them._

Refusing to let her imagination get the best of her, she closes the door and heads to class. Greeting her classmates, she's aware that the twins are watching her. She isn't really angry with them anymore, but she withholds looking at them just to be sure they "get" the point. They greet her in unison and inquire about Kyoya. She replies politely and when their sensei enters, Kaoru urgently requests that they speak at lunch. With a deliberately pointed look at him, she nods and takes her seat as lessons begin.

Their break brings a welcome respite from the work-filled morning and Haruhi heads over to the window and looks out over the courtyard. As 1st-years, their classroom is on the top floor, each year seeing their class move down a level until they're 3rd-years on the main level and ready to head out the doors and into the world. It's a quaint notion, but Haruhi enjoys the view, being able to see beyond the rooftops to where the dormant hedges of the garden maze cut dark swaths against the patchy ground in the bright winter sunshine.

She recalls the snowball fight with Club. _I'm pretty sure Kyoya was going to ask me out then and there, but then Tamaki-senpai got in the way. Argh. Maybe Kyoya's right about him being a bit blind to what's happening right under his nose. And maybe it's time I had a little chat with "Daddy" before Kyoya does, if he hasn't already._

Kyoya. She's still a little miffed at his effrontery at sending the car and assuming she'd just go along with his plan this morning, but she can't help but smile. _It was_ _nice. No, it was sweet, actually._ She shakes it off. _Stop Haruhi. Don't read things into what's probably simple courtesy to him. Oh, I'm such a dunce when it comes to this dating stuff._ But the urge to see him, to hear his voice, and to feel his touch again overcomes her in a wave. Taking a drink from the water bottle she carries, her nerves settle and she sets it down on the low window ledge before pulling out her smart phone. _I know you don't like getting texts during school, Kyoya, but one message can't hurt and you can read it when you have a chance._

Much to her surprise, several messages are awaiting her: one from Hikaru and three later ones, all from…Kyoya? Her surprise is only matched by the sheer delight she feels in knowing he's broken what heretofore she thought was an iron-clad rule.

 **8:51 am/Kyoya:** Haruhi, I won't be at HC due to an appt with my father after school. Not to worry. I'm sure it's nothing.

Then:

 **8:52 am/Kyoya:** I trust you enjoyed the tea and the music.

And then,

 **8:53 am/Kyoya:** "If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets."

She knows the quote. It's from Murakami Haruki, a required author in Modern Japanese Literature and one of her favorites. She's simultaneously pleased about Kyoya's attention to her interests, but somewhat worried about his meeting with his father. The last message is from Hikaru:

 **8:55 am/Hikaru:** Sorry 'bout last night but…

She touches the snippet to open the full message, but as she does, she's broadsided by Kaoru and her phone is knocked to the ground.

A bit of drama ensues but, soon enough, Tucker-sensei restores order and their work begins anew. Now, Haruhi sits between the twins who are passing notes in front of and behind her. It's but her single-minded focus that allows her to ignore the distraction, disrupted only when sensei confiscates the note from Hikaru and remands him to eat lunch in the teachers' room. Homework is assigned and the class is left to continue silent sustained reading until the clock tower chimes, announcing the end of the morning session. It's lunchtime.

"Coming with, Haruhi?" Renge asks, hoping her classmate will take her up on her consistent offer.

And just as consistently, Haruhi replies, "No thanks. I'm fine right here, but you go ahead."

"C'mon, Renge," Momoka says, grabbing the blonde by the arm and pulling her towards the door. "We'll see you later, Haruhi."

"Later," the brunette replies with a smile, but her thoughts are elsewhere.

Kazukiyo Soga stops by her desk, "Hey, Fujioka. Too bad about your phone. If you need to use one, you can borrow mine."

"Thanks," Haruhi responds with a smile, "but I'm good. I could stand a copy of your notes though."

The bespectacled boy sounds surprised. "But I usually borrow notes from you."

She shrugs. "Guess I'm a little distracted today. Could I?"

"Sure. I'll shoot you a copy during lunch."

"Thanks, Soga. You're the best."

The Class President blushes at the compliment. "It's just some notes, Fujioka. No big deal. I just wish I could do more to repay you for helping me get closer to Kurekano."

"Have you asked her out yet?"

Soga shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "Nah. Still working on that, but we text one another and talk, too." His eyes grow a bit dreamy as he thinks of his long-time crush. "And it's all because of you."

"I seriously doubt that. You just finally got her attention. So keep at it. You're a good guy and Kurekano knows it."

"I wish I could be as confident as you are, Fujioka. Kurekano thinks the world of you and so do I - I mean as a friend, of course."

"Sure. I get it. But I'll bet she dreams of you at night."

Soga's face lights up. "Do you think so? Has she said something to you?"

"Not exactly, but girls always dream about the boy they like."

"Do they?"

"Sure. I know I- umm- uhh- they just do. They tell me so at club."

"Really? Wish I could talk with girls as easily as you do."

"You don't need to talk to girls, just to her. But do be nice to her friends. Girls like that."

"I remember you telling me that. So, does that mean I have to eat lunch with Houshakuji?" he asks, his reluctance clear.

"Only if you want to impress her."

"Houshakuji?" His confusion is obvious.

"Kurekano, of course," Haruhi reminds with a sharp look.

"Oh, right. Okay then. I'll be going and I'll get those notes to you. See you later, Fujioka." He heads off with a wave and Haruhi finds herself staring at the empty doorway long after. _How can someone so smart be so dense?_

With a shake of her head she takes out her bento box and begins to eat her lunch. She takes a bite or two of her rolled omelet, then pauses, her appetite gone. _What could Ootori-sama want that can't wait? Kyoya never misses club meetings so whatever the reason, it must be important. People like Ootori Yoshio don't interrupt their work day to chat with their children without due cause. I hope everything is alright._

She thinks back on the afternoon she and Kyoya first kissed in the prep room, the way his expression went from cool to heated anger when he mentioned his father. _And then, his mother. He doesn't say much about either of his parents except that they're demanding, but he's protective of his mother. That seems pretty normal for a boy, but there's something else going on. Maybe he's told his father about us, after all, and our first date will be our only._ She sighs, unwilling to speculate on such an unwanted scenario.

The scent of strawberries interrupts her train of thought, assailing her senses with their pungency. Pulling back, she sees a silver spoon laden with a dark pink mound of glace arrive beneath her nose.

"Try it. I got it just for you." It's Kaoru, of course. She knows his voice and his request sounds inviting, not insistent the way Hikaru's would. She hesitates for only a moment, then takes the proffered spoon between her lips. The confection is naturally sweet and cool on her palette. Surely the berries were only harvested yesterday and shipped in from who-knows-where to create what's considered a simple midday dessert for Ouran's favored sons and daughters.

"Mmmm, that's good," she admits as she savors the luscious fruit concoction, "but no more."

Kaoru places the white porcelain lotus bowl filled with a single perfect scoop on the desk beside her bento box. "Just in case you change your mind." He pauses and sits down at his desk. "And to apologize for killing your phone." Pause. "And for last night."

Haruhi looks at him from the sides of her eyes, Host-manner fully in place. The younger Hitachiin is sitting sideways in his chair, hands drumming against his dress trousers with an irregular cadence. She sets the spoon down and turns in her own chair until she's a mirror image of the ginger across the aisle. "So," she begins, "I'm here and I'm listening."

Kaoru meets her steady gaze, just as he always has. Hikaru hardly ever does, though he's gotten better at meeting her eyes when they converse. _Oh, they both have a lot of growing up to do but at least Kao isn't fighting it. Or maybe he's just more accommodating and trying to please._ Haruhi worries about unduly steering the conversation, content to allow Kaoru take the lead in expressing whatever it is he wants to express.

Except, all he does is fidget a bit more. Then, suddenly, he stands up and walks over to the window, to where Haruhi stood earlier. She follows and stands beside him, both now peering through the windowpanes.

"Whatever it is, Kaoru, just tell me," she encourages but keeps her eyes on the glass.

Kaoru pulls in a breath and then gushes, "I know we were wrong to follow you and senpai last night, whether Hikaru agrees with me or not. He just gets so excited, y'know? He's still learning to respect other people's boundaries and he's gotten a lot better, but he still makes mistakes. I do, too, but it's only because we care about you and if we do something crazy, it's because we care about you and don't want to see you get hurt."

Haruhi listens, trying to follow his rambling apology. She wishes she could be as angry with him as she was last night, but his sincerity is disarming and her temper slow to rise and quick to dissipate. His pause leads her to believe he's said his piece and she opens her mouth to reassure him, but he continues.

"Senpai is a great guy and all, but he isn't called the Shadow King without good reason. His family is notorious for secrets. And whatever Hikaru told you, it's just speculation."

Haruhi hears the tension now lacing his voice. Her brow knits and she turns towards him. She needs to see his eyes now, but he doesn't look at her as he says, "It's not like we know anything specific, but you know how he - that is, Hika - loves drama. Plus, I think he's still a little jealous of Kyoya-senpai and might do something rash, though I don't think he'd be that stupid knowing how angry senpai would be and how hurt you would be, to say nothing of the Boss's reaction. So just ignore him, okay?" Then he turns, meeting her eyes and flashing a hopeful grin.

Haruhi asks deliberately, "What do you mean, Kaoru?"

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?"

"What do _you_ mean by 'it's just speculation?'"

"What Hikaru told you."

Her nose scrunches up a bit as confusion overrides curiosity. "Kaoru, I have no idea what you're talking about but if you're trying to tell me that your brother is up to yet another prank- No, wait. Is this about his text message?"

"Uhhh…"

"Is it?" Hikaru's cryptic message niggles at the back of her mind.

"It's about Kyoya-senpai, right?" Kaoru clarifies.

 _Oh._ "What do you know about that?" _Did Kyoya text everyone? That's not like him at all._

"Listen, it's just gossip."

"I don't think Kyoya would lie about something like that. It seems important."

Kaoru sits down on the low, broad window ledge. "So you know?"

"Uh, ye-ah. And, apparently, so does everyone else. Why he told everyone is a mystery, but that's his choice."

"And you're not upset?" Kaoru's amazement baffles her.

"A little bit, I guess, but it's family business."

"Now you sound like the Boss."

"Well, families are important. Angry as I might be with my dad for how he acts sometimes, it's who he is and I accept that. Between Tamaki-senpai's dinner antics, your stalking and Dad's role in what went on last night, I was pretty ticked, but I'm over it."

"Tamaki-senpai was with you at dinner, too?" Kaoru's eyes widen.

"For a little while. He was dining with his father and stopped by our table. You were the one who told me he was at the theater, though Kyoya thought he might show up."

"Wow." Kaoru's admiration colors the wee interjection.

"What - wow? What did I say?"

"Haruhi - you have got to be the most incredible girl I know. I didn't think you'd be so calm about it, but then, you are pretty amazing."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." _Why is this a big deal? Should I be pleased or worried?  
_

"This'll probably change things at Club."

"We'll just do what we normally do and carry on."

"Even if Renge tries to make a big deal out of everything, which she will?" Kaoru reminds.

"I can handle Renge, and a little drama is good for business."

"Now you sound like Kyoya-senpai."

Haruhi chuckles at the comparison. "Do I? Guess his influence is rubbing off on me."

"You really like him, don't you?" It's a sincere question and Haruhi's esteem for the quieter, more sensible Hitachiin deepens.

"Do I?" It's a rhetorical question, but she considers the dark-haired megane who has scaled the walls around her heart. Her memory rekindles his kiss on her shoulder and the way the simple contact rushed new and intense sensations through her. Her cheeks redden, just a little. "Yeah, I guess I do," she says in a winsome way.

The voices of their returning classmates signal the beginning of the afternoon session. Hikaru enters the classroom looking chastened and Kaoru sprints to meet him. One of the boys calls over, "Hey, Hitachiin. Enjoy your lunch date with sensei?" eliciting good-natured ribbing from a bunch of them that Hikaru seems to take in stride, his "street cred" improved by a bit of rogue behavior.

Renge and company approach Haruhi as she cleans up her desk and tucks her bento box back into her bookbag. Momoka asks, "Is everything okay, Haruhi? Hikaru is very cute, but he's also very fresh, sometimes."

"Yeah," Haruhi replies, "it's fine. Kaoru was with me and we talked for awhile. I think it's good for them to do things separately, even if it is only to eat lunch with different people."

"So I guess he wanted to know about last night, didn't he?" Renge asks in a conspiratorial tone. "Momoka says she saw the twins at the theater last night with their aunt or something."

"Oh?" Haruhi's host training has perfected her ability to maintain a poker face and she uses it now it to good advantage.

"Renge," her classmate chides, "I don't know who it was, but it was a lady and I know it wasn't their mom because I've met her before."

"Whatever," Renge tosses out. "The really interesting part is that you saw Kyoya, too, didn't you?"

"Well, I did."

"And he wasn't alone."

"No, he wasn't."

"So what were _you_ doing last night, Haruhi?"

"Me?" _So this is it, I guess._ She glances at Soga and remembers all the advice she's given him about being brave and being honest about your feelings. _How can I back down now and what a hypocrite I'll be if I skirt the issue._ "I was-"

"Everyone take your seats, please. Class is beginning," comes the stern voice of their Literature sensei who has entered the room. With a disappointed moue, Renge points a finger at Haruhi and says sotto voce, "Later."

Hikaru and Kaoru are walking back towards their desks, their rift apparently mended if their chuckling and jostling is any indication. _Well, that's good, anyway._

Kaoru walks behind Haruhi's desk and takes his seat, a relieved look on his face. Hikaru remains standing beside his desk, staring at Haruhi. After a few seconds, she turns her head and whispers, "What?"

"Listen, if you're cool with it, so am I. Sorry for pushing things. Just remember that Kaoru and I are here for you, Haruhi. No matter what, ok?"

"Okay," she responds, though she isn't at all. A glance at Kaoru reveals him holding two thumbs up at his brother and her affection for them both helps to ease her worry. As they begin their lesson, Haruhi forces herself to pay attention to her schoolwork. When the Study Hour begins, she gathers her things and heads out of the classroom without pausing to speak with anyone.

_I just need some time by myself to think. And now I really do miss my phone. And you, Kyoya. It's all your fault, you know. _ _I used to be so level-headed, and now I'm acting like a lovesick teenage girl. But I am a lovesick teenage girl!__ Renge is suspicious and the twins are acting weird. Goodness knows how Tamaki will be at Club without you there to keep him settled. I want to believe that everything will be fine and that we can handle it all, only I'm not as certain as you seem to be. _

And somehow, in her mind, she hears Kyoya's likely response: 'And when have I ever been wrong?'

End - Chapter 34 - One Fine Wire

* * *

One Fine Wire by Colbie Callait [Haruhi-centric]

I try so many times,  
But it's not taking me.  
And it seems so long ago  
That I used to believe.  
And I'm so lost inside of my head  
And crazy, but I can't get out of it.  
I'm just stumbling.

BRIDGE:  
And I'm juggling all the thoughts in my head.  
I'm juggling and my fear's on fire,  
But I'm listening as it evolved in my head.  
I'm balancing on one fine wire.

CHORUS:  
And I remember the time my balance was fine  
And I was just walking on one fine wire.  
I remember the time my balance was fine  
And I was just walking on one fine wire.  
And it's frayed at both the ends  
And I'm slow unraveling.

Life plays such silly games inside of me.  
And I've felt some distant cries following,  
And they're entwined between the night and sunbeams.  
I wish I were free from this pain in me.

BRIDGE & CHORUS (repeat in overlay)


	35. Little Lion Man

The corporate offices of The Ootori Group occupy a dozen upper stories of a glass and steel structure that towers over many of its equally impressive neighbors, including the much smaller yet no less important and historic Mitsubishi brick edifice far below. The monolith isn't the tallest building in Tokyo, nor even considered tall by world standards, but still it serves as a testament to the fortitude and tenacity of Tokyo's inhabitants who live and work within the shadow of earthquakes, tsunamis and the not-so-distant Mt. Fuji, whose history is far from over.

Tucked into a corner of the 36th floor, the Chief Executive Officer of The Ootori Group stands looking out over the city. His executive suite possesses not only the finest furnishings and latest technology, but maintains a breathtaking view of the Imperial Palace and surrounding gardens laid bare in winter, so that he can see the distant rooftop of the hospital where Yuuichi keeps his eye on things while the senior Ootori manages his health care zaibatsu.

In the mind of Ootori Yoshio, this is how things should be. Chiyoda District's prime real estate is the most expensive in all of Japan and his family's legacy, as well as he himself, deserve nothing less than a spectacular location from which he can control his national and ever-growing international holdings. Yet controlling his children is quite another matter.

 _Yuuichi is learning and doing well. I trust his judgment. Akito will do nothing to upset either his brother or myself but will speak his mind, making him excellent future counsel. He also has the prerequisite social skills and can help Yuuichi navigate such matters. Fuyumi will do as Fuyumi does and Kyoya..._ The corporate magnate pauses. _Kyoya is still young and needs guidance. His health has always made him edgier than his siblings, but he's used it to his advantage. Admirable, but no more than I expect. What Hotta-san reports will confirm that his adolescent rebelliousness hasn't become recklessness._

Behind him, Yoshio hears the door open and in the faint reflection of the glass before him, sees his personal assistant, Amano Seijiro, enter with the family staff member known to him as Hotta, a trusted employee. The bald-headed man is ushered into the clandestine space few ever get to see. It's an anomaly to meet with household staff at his place of business, but the CEO has questions that pertain to his youngest son that must be asked and answered as expediently as possible. He waits until Hotta is brought within ten feet. A slight wave of his hand and the assistant is dismissed. When Yoshio is certain they are alone, he turns, crosses his arms over his chest and speaks.

"Hotta-san, you have been well?"

"Very well, Chairman, thanks to your generosity."

"Come, come, my friend. There's no need to be so formal when it's just the two of us."

"As you wish, sir."

"Fine. And you've been a trusted member of my family's staff for some time."

"Three years." At no time does Hotta change his posture or meet his employer's eyes.

"In that time you have proven yourself to be loyal, industrious and honest. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would clarify something for me."

"If I am able, I will assist, sir."

"You drive my third son to academy and home?"

"Yes."

"He is often accompanied by the son of Ouran's Chairman, Suoh Tamaki?"

"Yes."

"Please think carefully. On Friday evening, you provided them with illegal substance?"

The man only hesitates for a moment before bowing even lower and admitting, in a low voice, "Yes, sir. I regret my actions. If you wish me to resign from your honored service, I will do so at once."

Silence fills the room like smoke, a slow fire gathering strength elsewhere, ready to burst into flame, its catalyst the lightning strike of Ootori Yoshio. All pleasantries are gone now and the executive's voice takes on an ominous quality.

"What occurred?"

"Kyoya-sama and Tamaki-sama were together on Friday for our weekly drive. They had access to beer and water only. No one else was with them."

"Go on."

"The screen was in place, but the pick up was operating."

"And my son knows nothing about it?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Go on."

The man sighs audibly. "There was a telephone call about a party being planned."

"Student planned?"

"No," The man's shoulders ease, a fact not unnoticed by the observant Ootori. "They were speaking to the father of a schoolmate."

"Which one?"

"Fujioka Haruhi."

Yoshio knows the name. He's heard Kyoya mention it on more than one occasion. Fujioka is an honor student and scholarship recipient. He turns away from the man to stare out of the windows once more.

"What else?" The employee doesn't respond immediately, his hesitation revealing a conflict of interest. "Is there a problem in your answering me?"

"I only wish to serve your household well, sir."

"Ah so. You tell me that they were drinking, but you're afraid to tell me what else was going on. That can only mean scandalous behavior, correct?"

"I am uncertain, but…perhaps," Hotta murmurs.

"Thank you. You may go."

The man backs away and out of the door, held open by Yoshio's personal assistant who enters and stands at quiet attention, awaiting instructions.

"Bring my third son here at the end of his school day," comes the soft command.

A crisp affirmative is the reply.

OoOoO

The youngest Ootori enters his father's office and heads to the seating area in one corner. He takes the chair he always does when summoned - the least comfortable one, despite its cost. His eyes are lowered and his back is straight as he waits. He's annoyed with himself, worried for Haruhi and concerned about Tamaki. _Still, everything in life is a lesson to be learned and there isn't a problem that I can't solve._ A deep sigh grips him. _Unless Tamaki persists and Haruhi grows wise. Dammit! How the hell do you do this to me, Suoh? No way is anything like what happened on Friday going to happen again. I want girls, a girl - Haruhi._ Thinking about her and Tamaki simultaneously makes Kyoya twitchy. Tamaki, yes even naïve Tamaki, would understand a menage-a-trois but Kyoya can't wrap his head around the logistics and refuses to consider it, here.

The blond's actions earlier that morning and his questions about Kyoya's past experience with girls on Friday night had both been a surprise to the brunet. And he'd been honest, but less than completely forthcoming, thereby self-validating his personal views on humanity. Yes, he'd had two so-called girlfriends, but what Tamaki didn't know about was the informal hook-ups Kyoya has either enjoyed or endured since he was fifteen.

The frivolous girls in middle school had matured into young women with desires hellbent on satisfaction. Their attentions towards him at obligatory social functions ranged from giggly to grabby. He tolerated their advances, but preferred the no-strings-attached proficiency of older girls who weren't looking for a romantic liaison nor a marriage prospect, but simply wanted to have fun. And it was fun, but he'd felt nothing for them. _Nothing at all. But Tamaki would never understand that sex and love are often discrete. And that is the problem._

But then, Haruhi - _how do I think of her?_ He'd gone to her home out of a compulsion to see her again, especially after being with Tamaki. _Why? Guilt? A need to validate my sexuality? A need to compare?_ The memory of her slight frame in his arms, her innocent passion and her fervent belief in him appeals to him in a totally different way. _I care about them both, but what Tamaki wants I can't give to him because it's what I want with Haruhi - something different, something deeper._

From the start, she'd unknowingly situated herself by his side time and again until he came to miss her presence when she was elsewhere. And she, like Tamaki, saw past his manicured image into his passionate heart for those and for what he cared most fervently, pushing him to accept that he could exceed the limits placed on him by his family and forge his own path. Two boys, one girl. It's a common tale, except when the object of affection is one of the boys. _Of all the people to find themselves at the center of a bizarre love triangle, I am the least likely. Yet here I am. Dammit.  
_

Yoshio finishes his telephone conversation and approaches. He stands behind the chair opposite Kyoya, hands clasped behind his back. He is a handsome man, but his current stern expression makes it unlikely for anyone to find him so at first glance. His voice is precise and level when he speaks, "I thought your mother and I had made it clear to you what is expected." Kyoya is silent. "You can defy me by refusing to answer, but I do not recommend it." The eighteen year old looks up into his father's forbidding eyes yet keeps his counsel. "Why must you be so difficult, Kyoya?

"I understand what you expect."

"Have you made the adjustments I requested of your activities?"

"I won't abandon my responsibilities to Host Club, if that's what you're asking. Not this late in the school year. I can curtail my other activities beyond school."

"You can and you will. From here on, you will only be allowed off the estate for pre-approved events."

Kyoya's eyes widen, but he masks his irritation. "You can't be serious. I'm not a child."

"Your choices say otherwise."

"My grades have picked up."

"And Chairman Suoh's son is still ranked second?"

"Yes, Father."

"You and he are friends?"

"Yes, Father." _You know this._

"How often do you see him?" The observant Shadow King of the Ouran Host Club feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Daily at school. We study together and socialize."

"Are you close?" Kyoya shifts back only an inch or so and tries to keep his expression neutral and his nerves under control.

"We're friends."

Yoshio moves towards his son and Kyoya prepares for…anything. It's not unknown for his father to issue corporal discipline as he sees fit and for his third son to tolerate it without complaint. This is Japan and utmost obedience to one's parents is demanded, no matter how it is achieved. But instead, the older man sits down on the chair opposite the younger, crossing his legs to mirror his son's posture. Those who don't know him are often fooled into letting down their guard, but Kyoya remains vigilant as he watches a small, satisfied smile grace his father's chiseled features.

"My son," he starts using a familiar and softening his tone. "It is vital that you thoroughly understand how delicate is the framework upon which I have built our family's reputation and fortune. The Ootori bloodline extends to antiquity, but our position in the modern world must always be protected."

"I am aware of this."

"Now, as we are discussing academics, I must tell you that your leading margin is shrinking. Suoh-san must not surpass you."

"That's unlikely." _This is what concerns him?_

"It must be impossible; therefore, you may no longer assist him."

"The arrangement is reciprocal."

"I doubt it. Suoh-san is bright, but scattered, like his father. He lacks focus and intent, two qualities to be sought after in your associates."

"Are you choosing my friends for me now?" Nerves are squelched as ire rises, its presence tingeing Kyoya's voice.

"I'm suggesting that you view your personal relationships as a means to an end," comes the flinty reply. "You used to understand that until Suoh-san came along. I'm beginning to think he's a bad influence."

"Tamaki - a bad influence?" The direct attack provokes Kyoya into raising his voice as much as he dares, but the shift is duly noted and Yoshio's eyes narrow.

"You defend him, which makes him even more dangerous than I first thought. You know that your only true allies are blood-related."

"And enemies?

"The same. Keeping Suoh-san close, however, does afford opportunity to observe your closest competitor; therefore, I will allow the relationship to continue."

 _You will allow?_ "Whether you allow it or not, we are friends." Kyoya's hard-won loyalty and intense solidarity to Tamaki is at stake and he won't have anyone, parent or not, diminish that.

"Don't be naïve, Kyoya. I'm sure Chairman Suoh instructed his son to befriend you just as I suggested that you befriend him." Doubt flashes for a moment in the brunet's eyes. "And Fujioka-san's father must have his reasons, too."

"What do you know about that?" Kyoya asks with restored wariness.

"I know that she's an exceptionally bright scholarship recipient; therefore she, unlike Suoh-san, possesses both focus and intent."

"How-?" comes unbidden.

"I know much more than can imagine, Kyoya. You must never forget that."

 _So then..._ A cold pit forms in his stomach as his father continues.

"If she learns her place, she may ascend her questionable roots and create a place of note for herself in the world, along with some wealth, modest as it may be. Her potential as a future spouse is quite limited, but she may prove herself worthy of consideration, in time."

Kyoya's usually implacable mask finally slips and he looks down. He's never been ashamed of his social standing and wealth until now, knowing how hurt Haruhi would be if she heard this. Hurt and furious. "Learns her place?" he asks without lifting his eyes.

"Ambition can take one far, but it will never change one's origins. You know this, Kyoya."

He does, but only because he's heard it from his parents since he was a child and seen it treated as if it were bona fide truth by everyone else in his life. Now it sounds arrogant. _So this is how Haruhi sees the elite._ A pang of conscience strikes him squarely in the chest.

"Must it always be about money?" he asks, the question genuine. All at once, Kyoya feels as he did years ago, a worshiper before his idol - his father - asking questions about religion and politics and humanity, except he's older now and disinclined to swallow whole his father's teachings. But it is his father, after all, albeit a tarnished figure who is no longer his sole role model.

"Money is a tool," Yoshio states, "not an end in itself. But if you wish to continue living the lifestyle you've enjoyed thus far - yes. If you wish to attend a prestigious university that will provide not only a degree, but connections in the real world - yes. And if you wish to possess the "toys" you see your brothers drive, the women they bed and the respect they command among their peers - then yes. Money, like information, is power and power is always the bottom line."

"What about friendship?"

"I promise you this: five years after you graduate from academy, you won't even contact the people you call friends now."

"What about charity?"

"When deserved, it has a place. Fujioka-san is one such deserving person. But charity for charity's sake? Never. Your mother will disagree, but she does with her money what she wishes."

Kyoya considers his mother and again wonders why she remains attached to the man who faces him. _She could leave and take care of herself and anyone else she chooses, but,_ he reminds himself, _adultery is far more accepted in Japan than divorce, especially among the elite_.

He thinks about what Haruhi told him about her mother scorning a better salary in order to help others and the way Ryoji-san still honors his love for his deceased wife, ten years after her passing. And then, he finds himself voicing a thought he hears echoing in his mind, only it isn't him asking, but Haruhi...and Tamaki.

"Don't people matter at all?"

Yoshio's brow lifts and his visage softens again, as does his voice. "They matter, Kyoya, but you must decipher their intention, their utility and their value so you can manage them."

 _Manage them..._ "Even family?"

"In a different way. Your brothers, your sister and you are my legacy. How you appear to the world reflects upon your mother and myself. Your older siblings have done well following my instructions and you will do the same, provided you stop challenging me."

Kyoya hears the words, but knows he can't abide. "Thank you, Father, but I prefer to chart my own path."

"If I thought you possessed the maturity, wisdom and wherewithal to do so, you could; however, you still have much to learn."

"I know this."

"Then heed me when I tell you that your behavior must be above reproach regardless of your personal feelings about things."

"I know this also."

"Do you? I've had this conversation with both of your brothers so do not think I'm singling you out." Yoshio turns his head to look at the painting on the wall above the sofa nearest them. It depicts a businessman in a bowler hat, his face obscured by a large green apple. "Do you see that painting?" Kyoya looks at it once more, after countless times studying it as he's sat in this very chair over the years and nods. "What do you see?"

"Le Fils de L'homme by Magritte, a self-portrait in oil, done in the mid-20th century at the close of the Surrealism movement."

"What does it mean?"

"To Magritte or to me?"

"Both."

Still observing the original masterpiece, Kyoya responds, "In a simple analysis, the businessman is Everyman, following the rules of society yet inexplicably drawn to what is natural to himself alone."

"And the apple? Is it not a symbol of temptation?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Magritte was a jokester, so perhaps it means nothing at all but what people project onto it."

"What does it mean to you?"

"I see a man allowing himself to be seen, but not seen - known, but unknown and unknowable, not only by others but by himself of himself, his only identifier being the fruit of his labor." Kyoya looks back at his father who returns his gaze.

"An intriguing analysis, in its way."

"You asked what I thought. What does this have to do with my brothers or with me?"

"People are inevitably curious about us, our lives and how we conduct ourselves as members of the elite. Like the apple, they may tempt us to disclose our vulnerabilities but we must never capitulate. Mystery is also power, Kyoya. Trust dissolves mystery and misplaced, can be used against you."

"I believe I'm a good judge of character."

"You well may be, but be prudent. Society holds youthful indiscretions as unwise, but tolerable to a degree. My tolerance for such things is non-existent. Do - you - understand?"

Kyoya is broadsided by the directness of his father's words. Whatever his father knows or thinks he knows is moot. He's being watched even more closely than he imagined.

"I can assure you that my behavior is and will remain above reproach."

"Make certain of it. You may go now." Yoshio stands and returns to his desk, picking up a folder and returning to his work, their meeting ended without sentimentality.

Kyoya heads to the door and before leaving, turns and bows. "Thank you, Father."

OoOoO

Yoshio hears his son leave and ponders their exchange. _Kyoya is bright and talented, but his place within the family is weak compared to his elder brothers. But then, he's also not as tough-minded as Yuuichi, nor obsucient like Akito. He, like Fuyumi, is more like his mother, better suited for a position of lesser stature, but greater personal freedom. If he keeps his wits about him, he can do extremely well for himself._

Staring at the city heading into early twilight, he wonders about the nature of the boy's relationship with Suoh. He can't imagine Kyoya as queer but boys will be boys. Experimentation in adolescence is not uncommon. He was guilty of it himself, a long time ago. A beautiful boy's face comes to mind. Even now, three decades after the fact, he remembers the face, though neither his name nor his destiny.

_I know I'm not the father you hoped I would be, my son; but if I am cruel, it is to be kind. There are so many things in life you have yet to learn and choices you will make that you never dreamed you would have to make. Perhaps, one day, you will understand. For your sake, I hope so._

END - Chapter 35 - Little Lion Man

* * *

Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons [Yoshio-centric]

Weep for yourself, my man.  
You'll never be what is in your heart.  
Weep, little lion man.  
You're not as brave as you were at the start.  
Rate yourself and rake yourself.  
Take all the courage you have left  
And waste it on fixing all the problems  
That you made in your own head.

CHORUS  
But it was not your fault but mine.  
And it was your heart on the line.  
I really fucked it up this time.  
Didn't I, my dear? Didn't I, my dear?

Tremble for yourself, my man.  
You know that you have seen this all before.  
Tremble, little lion man.  
You'll never settle any of your scores.  
Your grace is wasted in your face,  
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck.  
Now learn from your mother or else  
spend your days biting your own neck.

CHORUS (4x)


	36. Go With It

Haruhi heads down the hall at a rapid pace, ignoring the voice she hears calling her name. _Just need some space. Alone. I've always figured things out on my own and this is no different._ Except, it is. The last ten months spent with the Host Club and getting to know the girls that visit her changed her. _Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai, Kaoru and Hikaru - each are dear to me. Of course, there's Kyoya. And then… there's… Tamaki-senpai._ "Hm." _Maybe Dad is partially right. Maybe Tamaki-senpai does love Kyoya, but then, he loves everybody._

The King of the Host Club, the Princely Host, her faux "father" and overly-attentive friend comes to mind. _Obnoxious at times, yes. Over the top, definitely yes. But-_ And she pauses, memories coming to mind: fishing for a wallet in a slimy pond with her, comforting her during a thunderstorm and who could forget his dressing up in a ballgown just to convince her to stay at Ouran? _Nobody does that but a loving friend. I just don't think Tamaki-senpai is capable of hurting a friend. Not on purpose._ Her thoughts then turn to the many times the Host King has irked and irritated her: blaming her for others' bad behavior, caressing a look-alike mannequin, showing up unannounced in Karuizawa, and more.

She groans. Without thinking twice, she heads outside of the building, appreciating the way the cold air feels, her woolen blazer still holding body warmth. She ignores the looks coming her way from other students who pass her by dressed in heavy coats and scarves as they make their way to the Library or other activities. Then she hears her name being called again.

"Haruhi, wait up!" It's Renge, coat on and grabbing at her sleeve, forcing them to stop. "What's going on with you today? Are you okay?" The Lady Manager of the Host Club throws her muffler around Haruhi's neck and wraps it around several times. "Come back inside or you'll get sick." Linking her arm with Haruhi's, she leads the brunette back into the building. "I know a place where we can talk in private."

Haruhi knows it's useless to argue when Renge is on a mission. They climb a flight of stairs, walk down a few hallways and finally reach a doorway marked "World Languages." Reaching into her pocket, Renge pulls out a key, much to Haruhi's surprise.

"Shhh," the blonde says. "I know this room is empty for at least another 40 minutes."

"But how come-"

"I have a key? I am the Vice-president of the French Club, after all."

"But you're only a 1st-year."

Renge unlocks the door and pulls them both inside. As soon as they're out of the hallway, she turns to face Haruhi, who drops her bookbag unceremoniously when the beginnings of small snake heads appear like a halo around Renge's head. "Are you suggesting I'm incompetent?" Renge barks.

"No," comes the mildly cowed reply.

"That a speaker of la langue française from childhood wouldn't be the most logical choice on the planet to head a club dedicated to helping its members speak said language more naturally and to celebrate the culture and history of France?" Bark, bark.

"Jeez, Renge. Calm down. Forget I mentioned it." And with lightning speed, the girl's attitude downshifts to cheery and the snakes disappear.

"C'mon, Haruhi. Let's you and I sit down and you can tell me all about it."

"All about what?"

"I can tell when something is bothering you and I'll find out anyway, so you might as well just tell me."

Renge removes her coat and situates herself on the tufted, black leather sofa at one side of the room and pats the place beside her. Haruhi joins her, but faces forward. On the wall opposite are posters from various countries, representing all the languages taught at Ouran: French, German, Spanish, Chinese and English. The U.S. poster catches her eye the most, displaying a multitude of tourist sights of all kinds, from the Statue of Liberty to the beachfront of Waikiki.

_America looks interesting. That's where Harvard is.  
_

"Earth to Haruhi," Renge calls, waving a hand in front of her face. "What are you staring at? Oh, the posters. I think traveling is a pain, don't you? You can never bring enough of your favorite things along. I had to leave most of my Miyabi collection back home. Isn't it funny how Kyoya-senpai looks like Miyabi? I'm glad he's not my crush anymore. That, Haruhi, would be you. You do know that, don't you?"

Haruhi turns her head and their eyes meet. Renge is looking at her with longing, and Haruhi realizes that this is the first time they've ever really been alone together, without a hovering chaperone or friends around.

"Umm, Renge? You know I can't have a girlfriend while I'm a host. It's one of our rules." The blonde pouts. "But I'm flattered," Haruhi adds with a bright smile.

Renge's mouth forms a tight line and her eyes squint. Preceded by a huff, she says with a tone of determination, "Look Haruhi, we've known each other for a while now and I've been very patient. We don't have to be a couple, but don't you think it's time we experimented a little?" Renge leans in and Haruhi leans to one side.

"What are you talking about?" the brunette asks, her eyes blinking several times in disbelief.

"Oh c'mon. You can't tell me you've never thought about kissing me."

Haruhi shakes her head. "Actually…no."

"Want to?" comes the sassy reply.

 _This is bad déjà-vu._ Haruhi attempts to move back and away, but Renge leans in and Haruhi slips onto an elbow. "I thought you wanted to talk."

Renge is hovering over her, bracing herself above Haruhi's form. "Talk, schmalk. I have a better idea."

"Renge, really, don't do this."

"Kiss me or I'll just tell everyone you did," she announces.

"But that's blackmail!"

"No one will find out unless you or I say something," the blonde confidently counters as she leans closer, forcing Haruhi onto her back.

"But-" Renge leans in closer and closes her eyes. "But-" Closer. "I'm a girl!" Haruhi blurts out. _Damn! Did I just say that?_ From the way Renge pulls back entirely and stands up, mouth agape, she clearly just did. A flood of relief fills Haruhi's body.

"What - did - you - just - say?" comes the Billion Yen Question.

Haruhi does a face palm. _Well, that's that._ "It's true," Haruhi says from behind her hands in a calm, albeit resigned, voice. "I'm a girl; always have been." Her hand drops and she sits up and back, straightening her tie before turning to face Renge. _So, let's just deal with it._

Renge regards her long and hard for a solid minute in silence though her eyes reveal a number of passing thoughts and emotions - surprise, of course, but also anger, curiosity, a little sadness and finally, acceptance. She sits down further away from Haruhi than before and crosses her hands in her lap.

"I suspected all along," she says with a smug smile. "And you were the one out with Kyoya last night, weren't you?"

 _Guess I'm all in now._ "That would be me."

"What about Carcinoma? He's going to be disappointed."

"I don't think so. He already knows."

"Well." Renge's shoulders drop and she turns her face, deep in thought. "This certainly puts a different spin on things."

"It doesn't have to."

Renge turns back. "Are you kidding? You're a popular boy in the most popular club at Ouran _and_ you've been entertaining high school girls for the last year _as a fake._ Don't you get it?

"I guess I don't and I don't care. I think it's time to come clean, about everything. That's what Kyoya and I said we'd do."

"Then let me be your guide into how the "girly mind" works. But first, I need backstory. Why don't you just start at the beginning and gimme the gist. We'll take it from there."

"About what, exactly?"

"All of it. As Manager of the Host Club, I need to know everything." Renge's exasperation is clear. "I just can't believe I didn't realize sooner."

Haruhi looks at the elegant wall clock. Only twenty minutes have passed and escape is unlikely. _There's no point in pussy-footing around the truth, anyway._ And so, taking a deep breath and exhaling, she makes as quick work as she can outlining the highlights of her membership in the Ouran Host Club from shattered vase to the present minus the personal detail about Kyoya and herself.

Renge listens attentively, her eyes growing wider and starrier by the minute. Haruhi finally concludes her narration with, "…so that's why Kasanoda and I have tea every week. We're pretty good friends now."

Looking back at Renge, she notices that the girl is visibly trembling. "This is… This is… Fantastic!" the blonde cries. Renge grabs both of Haruhi's hands in hers, her moe energy radiating as heat through her palms. "It's just like a shojo manga! I can't believe you've kept this a secret for so long - the gender thing, I mean." Renge is giddy with excitement. "We'll deal with the two hosts dating fallout later."

"And if there is no later?"

"It doesn't matter." A hiccup of a giggle escapes. "Oh, I could eat three bowls of rice! It's sooo romantic! I can't believe the Shadow King is in love." Renge is practically swooning, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead.

"I didn't say that," Haruhi corrects.

"Are you?" Renge prods.

"In love? Ummm, I like him... a lot. But I've never been in love before, so I'm not sure. And we've only been on one date."

"So tell me something," Renge begins then pauses, eyes narrowing and leaning in, just a little. "Have you dated any of the other hosts?"

Haruhi demurs by saying, "The twins are like my brothers. Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai are cute, but they're too old. I'm only fifteen, Renge."

"Almost sixteen from what I've heard."

"Fine. And Kyoya and I just sort of happened. Neither of us planned it." _So why am I feeling defensive?  
_

"If that's how you want to play it," comes the sing-song response.

"It's true," the brunette insists. "And the guys are guys, sure, but they've been friends and gentlemen. I wouldn't have stayed, otherwise."

"So what about Tamaki-senpai, huh? Every girl sees the way he dotes on you."

"Tell me about it. I keep reminding him that I don't need another dad, but he keeps insisting that we're family."

Renge shrugs, not understanding. "Whatever. I think you and Kyoya-senpai make a cute couple."

"We're not an official couple. Not yet. We still have some things to work out."

"Things? What things?" The curious cat is back.

"Just getting to know one another better, developing trust and all that."

"That's why people date, Haruhi. It's a process, not an event." When Haruhi remains quiet, she asks, "So what's the matter?"

"Well... Kaoru says the Ootori family is full of secrets."

"Everybody has secrets. Look at you. You've been keeping a secret for nearly a year!"

 _I have, haven't I?_ "But nobody got hurt by it."

Still immersed in otaku mode, Renge is off in her own little world, giving a moving narration to no one in particular. "Raised without a mom, a hard-working honor student, you've braved many troubles in your lifetime, but you have a plan and you will succeed." Narration over, she points at Haruhi, "You're a role model for young women everywhere!"

"Huh? I'm just an average girl. It doesn't matter who raised me. I am who I am."

"Does anyone else outside of the club or Casanova know your secret?"

"My dad, of course. And I'm pretty sure Chairman Suoh has been briefed by Tamaki-senpai."

"Okay then. This is going to take some shrewd management if the Host Club is going to weather your coming out, so to speak."

"Really, Renge. You don't have to do anything. Maybe it's best if we just see how it goes and let people feel what they feel."

Renge holds up her hands, palms turned up and out. "Nonsense. A coming out is a delicate matter. After all, you don't want your regular customers to feel cheated, do you?"

Haruhi thinks about Momoka and Kimiko and the others. "You think they would mind?"

"You ninny. They've been crushing on you for months and now you're going to dash their girlish dreams into the dirt."

"That seems like an over-reaction."

"Of course it is, but that's why it has to be done just so. Some girls might find it adorable, but what do you think the rest of Ouran is going to say after they find out you've been spending time with a group of handsome boys, day in and day out?"

"I don't care what anyone else thinks," Haruhi avers. "Besides, I'm a girl and I wouldn't mind."

"I see. So if Kyoya-senpai suddenly revealed that he was female, you wouldn't care?"

Haruhi crosses her arms and puts a finger to her lips and looks up. _Kyoya as a girl would be kinda cute, but I don't think I'd want to date her…him. What am I doing?_ She shakes herself out of the brief imagery of Kyoya in his black gown and fan. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

"And let's not forget the customers who visit Kyoya-senpai, few as he allows. Jealousy makes people do things they normally wouldn't do, Haruhi, especially when it comes to love."

All at once, Tamaki's words at the restaurant spring to mind... ... _I think I understand more than you're willing to admit, Kyoya_... "I- I just figure I got myself into this mess, so I have to get myself out."

Renge's visage softens at that and a kind look appears. "Just because I know you're a girl, doesn't mean I still don't have a crush on you, y'know? Not in that way, of course, but as a friend. You do have friends so we'll figure it out." She places a hand over Haruhi's and gives it a squeeze.

"Tamaki-senpai said something similar to me, once," she responds, somewhat distracted by her thoughts.

"And I'm sure the rest of the Host Club agrees," Renge confirms. "Things might get a little wonky at club, but just breathe. This is going to work out just fine."

"You think?" And for the first time, Haruhi sees Renge as the true girl friend she needs in her time of need.

"Absolutely. As Manager of the Ouran Host Club, I'm going to make sure of it."

The clocktower chimes the three-quarter mark and Haruhi starts. "I have to get to the salon!" she cries and rushes to the door.

"We'll chat again, soon," Renge encourages. "Just remember why you're a host."

Haruhi turns at the open doorway and looks back. "To pay off my debt?"

"Really? Think about it." A mysterious smile graces the blonde's face.

Picking up her bookbag from where it fell against the wall, Haruhi doesn't have time to figure out what Renge means as she bolts out of the office.

End - Chapter 36 - Go With It

* * *

Go With It \- TokiMonsta [Renge-centric]

VERSE 1  
Follow my lead  
'Cause I've been here before.  
We're close as family  
And I won't steer you wrong.  
You blame it on yourself  
And I know how you wallow.  
And when it doesn't go your way  
you got to follow, follow.

VERSE 2  
Follow me, me, me - me  
'Cause I've been here before.  
We're just like family  
And I won't steer you wrong,  
Steer you wrong.  
No. I will never, never, never, never, never…  
No. I will never, never…

CHORUS (2x)  
Ay-oh, let it go.  
See the big picture  
Explode like a light bulb.  
Let it unfold.  
Just go, go with it.

Just go with it. (2x)  
Just let it go.

VERSE 1

VERSE 2

VERSE 1

CHORUS (2x)  
Ay-oh, let it go  
See the big picture  
Explode like a light bulb.  
Let it unfold.  
Just go, go with it. (3x)


	37. Everyone's Waiting

The late afternoon sky above Ouran Academy is waxing indigo with pale tangerine clouds signaling the sun's descent into the horizon as it nears completion of its low winter arc. Soon the colors will deepen and the clocktower will glow magenta and gold with deep purple shadows. Haruhi often walks to the salon using the westward facing corridors just to watch the sunset from the upper-story windows.

But not today.

Today, her loafers fly over the marble floors, covering the distance between the academic office and Music Room #3 in record time. With one hand on the door handle she pauses, the other dropping onto her thigh as she bends over to catch her breath. _Calm down, Haruhi. It's going to be fine. Kyoya thinks so and Renge thinks so, too. I know those two being on the same wavelength should be terrifying, but I have to believe it._ She stands erect and pushes into the room.

 _Where are we today?_ she wonders as she steps into a space shrouded in…fog? The rose petals puffing around her head clear the air a bit and she notices, on either side of the double doorway, two intricately wrought black iron lamp posts topped by European-style lanterns that glow with the flame of faux gaslight. Their illumination spills into the mist that slowly circulates around her. Through it, she can make out various sized potted shrubs creating pathways throughout the salon illuminated by more high-posted lanterns. The air is cool and a little damp. _No doubt these are details Kyoya insisted upon._

She smiles to herself and remembers the day she first encountered Host Club doing cosplay. The salon was a tropical paradise, including flora and fauna that was interactive - unfortunately. _That was the first time I understood Kyoya's critical role in the club_ , never imagining how critical his presence in her life would become.

"Ha-ru-chan!" comes a familiar voice in a descending cadence, accompanied by two arms that encircle her waist from behind. Haruhi's balance is momentarily upset, but she's come to expect the unexpected, especially today.

"Hey!" she calls out, "Let go of me, okay?" The arms release her and she turns in place. Her double-take is automatic. Honey's face is all innocence and apology, despite his all-black garb, complete with purple satin lined cape and fangs.

"I'm sorry, but isn't this awesome?" the smallish blond chortles.

"Ummm, maybe, if I actually knew what was going on," she replies with a small moue.

"Didn't you get Tama-chan's text?"

"Nah, my phone got busted and I only got to read Kyoya's message. What's up with the fog?" she asks. Then, "And why are you dressed like Count Dracula? Halloween was months ago. Are we doing a holiday cosplay?"

"Nope. Victorian goth."

"But-" Her sentence is left unfinished as she's pulled into the recesses of the salon by Honey's firm grip on her hand. _Kyoya must be back._ Her heart does a little flip in her chest but she tamps down the unbidden rush of excitement she feels at the thought. _Time and place is everything and now is neither._ Between the fog, the eerie lighting and the twisting path they're on, she's a bit disoriented until they reach the changing room. There, standing in front of the curtain, back to back, are the twins.

"What the…?" she says and then begins to chuckle, hand over mouth.

Her Class 1-A peers are clearly in sync again, dressed in identical charcoal frock coats and brocade vests, complete with pinstriped trousers, pocket watches, short top hats and silver-tipped canes crooked under their arms. And both, she notices while stifling her humor, sport curling gingery moustaches. That, however, is where their mirror image ends. Kaoru's vest is red brocade, while Hikaru's is ivory. And their faces are subtlely different, too. _That's not like them._

"'Bout time you got here," chides Hikaru. _Well, you seem yourself again._

"Yeah, come on, Haruhi," adds Kaoru, "you have to change so we can do your makeup." _Kaoru, on the other hand…looks a little demonic, but I'm sure it's just the eyeliner._

"Haven't you had enough of dolling me up?" she says. "And who, exactly are you two supposed to be?"

"Can't you tell?" they express in unison.

"We're Dr. Jekyll," says Hikaru, fingertips touching the brim his hat with a nod.

"And Mr. Hyde," joins Kaoru, doing the same while trying to sound evil.

"Ah so. So, Kaoru is Mr. Hyde? I can tell by the way his eyes are done up."

"You think so?" Honey asks with a grin.

"I mean it's pretty easy to tell them apart-"

"Then let's play the Which One is Hikaru Game!" the twins announce brightly.

Haruhi's words are short-circuited by the rapid-fire change of position the twins execute, winding up face to face, hats hiding their bangs and cane tips pressed to the floor. If she hadn't watched them move and know them as well as she does, she would have sworn that they'd traded places because their vests are opposite in coloring, as is their eye makeup. Hikaru is now the demonic figure and Kaoru, the genteel.

"Isn't it cool?" Honey suggests. "It's just like the half-woman/half-man at the circus."

"Ye-ah," she agrees upon seeing them head-on, bi-colored vests and subtle eye makeup changes making their transformation appear seamless, depending on the viewing angle.

"Haruhi!" a slightly crazed voice calls out as a dapper figure waltzes out of the fog and into the visible area. "We only have fifteen minutes before our guests arrive and you aren't ready!" His mania is familiar, but Haruhi senses something else, though she can't quite place it. _Maybe it's the mask? I've never seen Tamaki-senpai cover his face in any way 'cept for sunglasses._

Said mask is white and covers a quarter of Tamaki's fine features. Black silk trousers are topped by a blood red velvet tailcoat, pristine white shirt and gloves. The black-on-black striped ascot at his neck is held in place by a golden treble clef. There's no mistaking the Phantom of the Opera.

"Gimme a break," Haruhi tosses off. "I had to take care of something. Besides, I thought today was Ancient Rome day and my costume is - or was - pretty simple."

"She didn't know about the change of plan, Tama-chan," Honey defends stepping in front of Haruhi in a protective move.

"Is Kyoya back?" Haruhi asks, still wondering where the person she most wants to see is located.

"No, and he probably won't be," Tamaki states with a trace of drama.

"What are you talking about, Boss?" Kaoru asks.

Haruhi reminds, "He had that meeting with his father, but I figured he'd be back by now. We wouldn't be doing cosplay without him, right?"

"Everyone that needs to be here is here, Haruhi," Tamaki insists. "Now please, go and get changed."

Haruhi sees the twins exchange raised brows and knowing looks. "What about Mori-senpai?"

"I'm here," comes Mori's soothing bass from behind her. She turns and there she sees the tallest host dressed as shabbily as she's ever seen him. His hair is short, but wild-looking with an attached pigtail tied on at the nape of his neck. He sports a loose, gauzy white shirt minus a collar, a long sepia waistcoat left unbuttoned like the top of his shirt, ebon trousers in Victorian style and knee high riding boots.

"Who are you?" she queries.

"Heathcliff," he proclaims and nothing more, striding to stand beside his cousin.

Tamaki strikes a pose, reveling in his dramatic garb. "I was feeling glum a bit earlier and wasn't going to indulge in cosplay today, but I changed my mind. The outfits the twins brought in were too good to ignore and there's no reason for us not to play just because Mommy won't play with us."

"He couldn't exactly turn down a meeting with his father," Haruhi remarks.

"Ooohh. So that's why Kyo-chan isn't here," says a relieved-sounding Honey.  
"That's pretty unusual," offers Kaoru.  
"During the business day?" Hikaru ponders.  
"It must be important, then," states Mori.

"But he told everyone," she asserts. The odd looks on all but one face tell her otherwise. "Didn't he?" Shaking heads affirm the fact. _Then what was Hikaru's message about?_

"Enough chatter, men!" Tamaki commands. Turning to Haruhi, he gushes, "Your costume is especially cute, my dear."

Haruhi grimaces. "If I gotta, I gotta."

"You gotta!" the twins chime.

Inside the dressing room, Haruhi sees her costume and groans. Sticking only her head out of the curtain she looks at Tamaki. "Really, senpai?"

"It's motley, just like the story says it should be."

Hikaru jibes, "I bet if Kyoya-senpai were here, you wouldn't mind."

"Hikaru," his twin warns.

"It's true, isn't it? And I bet Kyoya-senpai would reduce your debt after he saw you in it."

"Fine," she concedes, not wanting to go into the topic of her non-debt just now. _What's the point of arguing anyway? Damn these rich people and their games._

Ducking her head back inside, she finishes dressing, then pushes the curtain aside. She steps out dressed in the classic garb of the harlequin, complete with narrow capris in a multi-colored diamond pattern, a matching fitted jacket that she keeps buttoned up to conceal her gender, white hose, black slippers and a bright red, triple-belled cap. Her prop is a glittery faux scepter stuck through the wide black belt slung low on her hips.

"Ooooohhhh," ventures Honey. "That is cute!"

"Very," Mori adds.

"Adorrrabble!" sings Tamaki as he pulls her by the hand into the clear space in front of the changing room. She disentangles herself immediately and Tamaki pouts.

"Uh, senpai," Haruhi begins, "This doesn't seem very goth to me and do I really need this?" she holds up the black and gold Venetian eye mask she's supposed to wear.

"What's wrong with wearing a mask?" Tamaki asks, oblivious as ever to past events.

"You've got to be kidding." Haruhi throws him a stinging glare and the Host King wilts in place and drops to the floor in a huddled position.

Kaoru and Hikaru double over with laughter. "Maybe that's not such a good idea, coming from you, Boss," Hikaru says through his chuckles.

"I can't believe he said that," Kaoru admits between breaths while holding his sides.

 _Will this day never end?_ Haruhi sighs _._ _I want to go home. I want to talk to Kyoya. I'm hungry and I'm annoyed with senpai._ Thoughts pause _._ _But he looks so pathetic this way._ Haruhi huffs out a breath and squats down in front of Tamaki. "I'll wear the mask if you want me to," she capitulates, putting aside the past.

Puppy eyes meet her own. "Really?"

Haruhi smiles. "Sure, but you know, I think it's time we did have a little father-daughter chat about things."

Tamaki immediately brightens. "What did you just say?"

"I said we need to chat."

Tamaki springs to his feet and helps Haruhi up in one fell swoop. "Did you hear that, gentlemen? My little girl wants a daddy-daughter chat." He grabs Haruhi to himself and squeezes both his eyes and Haruhi tightly.

"Let go!" she cries. When he fails to do so, she calls out, "Mori-senpai, help!

The brooding host steps in at once, separating Haruhi from Tamaki with easy grace, setting her gently on her feet next to Honey, who links arms with her. Tamaki's eyes open to find himself hugging himself and himself alone. When he sees Haruhi is gone, he balls up his fists, shouting, "How dare anyone interfere in a tender family moment."

"She asked for help," Mori coolly responds.

Tamaki's shoulders slump. "Haruhi? You did say you wanted a daddy-daughter chat, didn't you?" the mollified blond asks.

"A chat, that's all. Can you handle that?"

"Of course, I can handle it," the blond yells. "What do you think I am? Some idiotic lunatic who does whatever comes to mind?"

Honey walks over and looks up as Tamaki looks down at the loli-shota who says, "Let's just get ready to meet the girls, ok? They'll be here soon."

 _The girls. That means Renge, too. She wouldn't do anything without telling me or would she? It is Renge, after all. But without telling Kyoya? Even she isn't that crazy._ A bubble of laughter escapes her.

"Something funny?" asks Hikaru sliding over to situate himself on one side of Haruhi.

"You look so deep in thought," adds Kaoru from the other.

She looks up at each of them and then to the rest of the group. Until now, she's never considered her gender important. She still doesn't, in the bigger scheme of things. But things in the Club are changing, as are her feelings for the absent host. _Maybe it's time to at least let them know what's going on with Kyoya and me._

"Guys, listen…speaking about girls. That is, about my being a girl…"

"Yes," Tamaki interrupts, "the girls are our prime duty and they will simply love our cosplay." With a flourish of his hand, he adds, "And as you can see, we are all tragic romantic characters from Victorian gothic tales."

Haruhi points to herself. "But this _isn't_ goth, senpai. It's Rennaissance."

Tamaki places his hand on her shoulder, a concession made after Mori and Honey's interventions. "But you're one of Edgar Allan Poe's best-known characters - a somewhat sad but central figure in one of his classic horror stories."

"Well, I'm certainly not a raven."

"A- No, no," he corrects. "That's a poem, not a story. I'm talking about..." His voice drops in pitch and becomes decidedly creepy, ...The Cask of the Amontillado," he moans while fluttering his fingers in front of her face.

"So I'm….Fortunato?"

"Quite so! I bet your customers will adore you in such a cute outfit."

"But Fortunato was a fool."

"In the story, perhaps. But remember, the court jester throughout history has been valued by the monarchy for honest opinion and keeping spirits up."

"That's sort of what you do for us, Haru-chan," Honey comments with sincerity.

"That's true," Mori agrees, causing her to look up at him. "You are very observant, very smart and point things out that no one else might notice."

"Thanks," Haruhi says, genuinely touched by the 3rd-years' words. "I really appreciate that. But there is something you all need to know." She looks at each of them in turn. "I really love being in the Host Club, but I think it's time-"

And for the umpteenth time that day, a message is curtailed by disruption, this time by the sound of girlish chatter.

"What's all this about?"  
"Oh my goodness. I think I'm a little scared."  
"How dreamy."  
"I wonder what the cosplay is today?"

"To your places, men!" Tamaki commands and all conversation is over, for the time being.

They scramble to the central sofa, Haruhi following Kaoru through the mist. Taking up her position on the floor in front, she sighs. _I hope everything is okay with you, Kyoya. Seems like you and Tamaki are still at odds, but I guess I'll find out later how that's going._

Somehow, the fog surrounding them and the immediate area is kept at bay and as the ladies emerge into the clearing, Haruhi can see that they are, indeed, charmed by the effect.

"Welcome!" the hosts chorus.

End - Chapter 37 - Everyone's Waiting

* * *

Everyone's Waiting \- Missy Higgins [Haruhi-centric]

I know all the lines to say;  
The part I'm expected to play.  
But in the reflection I am worlds away  
As I put my costume on -  
Eyelashes one by one.  
Been doing this so long I can tie the knot  
Behind my back.

And everyone's waiting,  
But it's getting harder to hear  
what my heart is saying  
'Cause everyone's waiting.

"Just swallow and breathe," she says.  
Remember this ain't for you, it's for them.  
And all of those painful lessons you've had to learn?  
You got to use them now or never.

'Cause everyone's waiting,  
But it's getting harder to hear  
What my heart keeps saying.  
Turn it off, I want to turn it all off.

When everyone's waiting,  
It makes it harder to hear  
what my heart keeps saying.  
Turn it off, I want to turn it all off.

But everyone's waiting.  
I hear that answers appear  
when you just stand still;  
But make it all-  
How do you make it all stop  
When everyone's waiting?

Everyone's waiting.


	38. No Apologies

Tamaki steps forward, removing his mask and holding it out in an outstretched hand. "Dear Ladies," he intones with dramatic effect, "welcome once more into our world of fantasy and beauty. Today, we are here to entertain you with characters from the Victorian works of Brontë, Poe, Stoker, Stevenson and, of course, the French author Leroux." He bows with an arm across his torso.

The ladies applaud with excitement and the fog thins, but for a low level mist that rises to their knees. Haruhi rises and heads towards her table. _Thank you, Kyoya. Even when you're not here for the club, you are. "And for you,"_ she hears him saying in the back of her mind. _"Never forget that."_

Momoka and Kimiko have bright eyes and smiles for Haruhi as she approaches the round table adorned with its usual red rose bouquet, accented today with black feathers and strings of pearls winding through the blossoms. _Get it together, Haruhi. The show must go on._

"Hello, Haruhi," Momoka says. "You look terrific in that outfit. Who are you supposed to be?"

Haruhi slips the glittery scepter from her belt, waves it about a few times, then places it on the table before sitting down. "Fortunato, from the Cask of the Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe."

"We thought so," says Kimiko, with hearts for eyes. "Poe is sooo melodramatic, don't you think? And poor Fortunato ended up in such a bad way."

"Wasn't that the story where he gets encased in a wall?" Momoka is already is little scared.

"That's the one," Haruhi affirms.

"But weren't the characters friends?" queries Kimiko, trying to sound erudite.

"I don't think a friend would do what Montresor did," Haruhi counters gently. _Though, on occasion..._

"It's monstrous," Momoka insists. "Poor Fortunato. You need someone to keep that meanie away, don't you?" she adds, leaning in and giving Haruhi a warm look.

"We'll protect you!" cries Kimiko, as both girls are framed by floating hearts.

"Thanks, ladies," she says with genuine appreciation. "That's really nice of you, but I'm the one who should be protecting _you_. It's a gentleman's duty to look out for rogues and dishonorable suitors."

"You're so chivalrous, Haruhi," Momoka gushes and Kimiko nods in agreement.

"Just like Kazukiyo," Haruhi presses. "He's a really good guy."

Momoka's brow furrows. "Kazukiyo? What's he got to do with anything?"

"Momoka," chides Kimiko. "You know he likes you."

"Then why doesn't he ask me out?"

Haruhi interjects, "Because he doesn't want to ruin your friendship."

"Really?" The brunette seems surprised.

"I bet if you invited him to escort you somewhere, he'd say yes and then you could see how it goes."

"Haruhi is right," Kimiko agrees. "It's time to stop playing at love and just love someone. You can still visit Haruhi, right?" she says, turning towards the costumed host.

"Sure," Haruhi attests. "Lots of girls have boyfriends and still visit Host Club. It's entertainment, after all. Nothing serious. In fact, I bet that if I were a girl, we could still have a great time together." _Maybe?_

Both girls seem a little confused by that, but nod thoughtfully since it's Haruhi who's said it. "But," Kimiko murmurs, "then it wouldn't be just a Host Club anymore, would it?"

Haruhi dodges the question with, "How about some tea, ladies?"

Their time together passes and another guest arrives at the table. It's Chiyo, one of her older regulars. "I believe it's my turn now, Haru-kun," she says sweetly.

"Of course," the host replies, then turns to "his" current guests. "Well then, it's been nice chatting with you ladies today."

"We'll see you in class tomorrow, Haruhi," Kimiko says, boasting just a little in front of the older girl, who smiles politely but says nothing as she sits down.

The rest of the hour passes and Tamaki closes the session. Haruhi changes back into trousers and shirt sans tie, rolls up her sleeves and dons her clean-up apron. She is still their errand boy, according to them. _Kyoya better reveal that my debt is fully paid and soon. I'm tired of being the maid around here._ Then she smiles to herself, recalling the reason she is the maid. _You're a sly dog, Ootori, but I find I rather like it. Who'd have thought?_

She's at the sink when the twins enter the prep room, fencing with their canes. They're all over the place and, eventually end up near Haruhi. Kaoru bumps into her.

"Hey, watch it!" she says and they pause in their merriment.

"Sorr-rry!" Kaoru calls over his shoulder as they press forward. "En garde, you scoundrel," he shouts at Hikaru and they're at it again.

Haruhi turns and watches them. She can't help but smile at their antics and feel the tug of affection she has for them. _They're my brothers. She_ likes the way it feels to have siblings, even if it is only make-believe.

Hikaru takes the horizontal handle of his cane and nimbly pushes at the brim of Kaoru's hat until it's knocked off his head and onto the floor. "Touché," he shouts.

"Hikaru," Kaoru complains. "The face."

"Sor-ry," Hikaru answers before retrieving the hat and heading to where Haruhi stands, her back pressed up against the counter. He leans his cane against the cabinet and sets the hat upon Haruhi's head with two hands. It's a bit large, so he holds it in place. "Haruhi," he says softly and waits until she looks at him.

"Yeah?"

"I have to add my apology to Kao's about last night. We were out of line," comes the surprising words with sincerity behind them.

"Thanks," Haruhi says, "but I'm over it."

One hand removes the hat while the other drops to her shoulder. "I mean, I could be jealous, but what would be the point? Besides, I'm not very good at sharing, so props to you for being so open-minded."

"Open-minded about what?" Kaoru asks as he joins them.

"Our two kings and our secret princess," Hikaru replies looking at his twin.

"Now that you mention it," Karou says his gaze moving to Haruhi. "I was a little worried, especially after Hika sent that text this morning." _Hika's text?_

"Guess Renge's had more of an influence on you than any of us thought," Hikaru comments.

_Renge? What are they talking about?_

"Yeah," continues Kaoru. "I can totally see the Queen of Moe in a three-way. She even declared that she wouldn't mind, but you?"

"A three-way," Haruhi muses, trying to make sense of their quips, her active mind piecing together bits of information.

"So, who do you think Kyoya-senpai thinks is cuter?" teases Hikaru.

Kaoru shakes his head at his brother, "Don't mind him. He's being especially snarky today." The brunette has been quiet throughout their lightweight exchange which is anything but lightweight to her. Finally, they notice her silence.

"What's the matter?" Kaoru asks.

"You look confused," says Hikaru.

Haruhi squares her shoulders and looks at each of them, saying in a steady voice, "Not confused. Just foolish, so I guess I wore the right costume today." And with that, she yanks off her apron, not caring where it lands, and walks briskly to the wardrobe where she dons her coat - the one the twins gave her. The scent of the perfume she wore last night still lingers in the fur and the memories of being with Kyoya still cling to her heart. Tears threaten. _But I'll be damned if I ever, ever cry over a guy. There are more serious things than that to cry over._ But as she strides to the open doorway with bookbag in hand, even the unflappable Fujioka Haruhi finds herself battling for composure.

Tamaki passes her at the entry and pauses. "Haruhi?" he says with concern. "What's wrong? Aren't we going to have our chat?"

But she doesn't answer, rushing by him with determination.

oOoOo

"Haruhi? Haruhi!" Tamaki calls. _What's wrong with my little girl?_

"Everyone, just leave me alone!" she calls without turning, leaving the present members of the Host Club stunned, not by her words, but by the way she says them. She hasn't sounded this angry since the day of the twins' mock fight.

Tamaki is torn, pacing back and forth like a madman in the prep room mumbling to himself while four pair of eyes track his movement to the… Right. "Do I go after her or not? I don't want to make her upset with me again, not so soon after yesterday." Left. "But she seemed fine earlier. Maybe she's worried about Kyoya. I know I was, too, this morning." Right. "But he clearly let her know what his plans were today, so she must know he's okay. I'm not, but he is, or so it appears." Left. "I really did want to talk with you, Haruhi, and now those shady twins have spoiled it."

He stops mid-pace and points at Kaoru and Hikaru who are standing by the sink, Haruhi's apron in Kaoru's hand. "What did you evil doppelgängers do?" he demands.

"We didn't do anything, senpai," Hikaru defends.

"She just snapped or something," adds Kaoru. "It's been a strange day."

Honey and Mori enter the room. Honey looks irked and Mori is quieter than quiet. They both stare at the twins.

"What did you guys say to upset Haruhi?" Honey asks in the low menacing voice none of them have heard since Usa-chan had tea spilled on him and the bunny-loving martial-artist was determined to find out who was responsible.

The twins clutch one another in terror. Kaoru gives a little scream as Honey moves closer. "Please, senpai. Don't hurt us. We didn't mean to say anything wrong."

"We apologized for last night and everything," Hikaru says. "We thought she was fine."

Honey stops in his tracks. "What about last night?"

Mori places a hand on Honey's shoulder. "Mitsukuni, wait. Let's hear what they have to say." He lolls his head from one shoulder to the other, loosening the muscles in his neck before adding, "If we don't like it, then we'll take care of it." Honey looks up at his cousin and gives a nod.

The twins drop to the floor and crawl under the work table, whimpering. "We don't want to die. Help us, Tamaki-senpai. Pleeease!" It's hard to tell who is saying what because their panicked voices are muffled, huddled as they are into one another.

Tamaki holds a hand to his head, as if he has a headache. "Fine, fine!" he says in an exasperated voice. "Everyone please change, then take a seat. Mori-senpai, see if you can get Kyoya on the phone. Honey-senpai, you do the same for Haruhi. We're getting to the bottom of this."

For all his flightiness, Tamaki knows when the club's integrity is threatened. _Hosts at odds doesn't benefit the club, its members or its guests. Friends at odds is worse_. He sighs with a noise at the back of his throat. Changing goes quickly and when they reconvene, flared tempers are a bit assuaged and outrageous worries have calmed to minor hysteria. Mostly Tamaki's, on both counts.

Honey and Mori sit at one side of the oblong table, texting away. The twins sit adjacent on the opposite side. Hikaru looks worried. Kaoru looks upset.

Tamaki flops into the same seat as that morning, when he and Kyoya had their talk. Their talk, in fact, has been on his mind all day and especially this afternoon, when running the club without his vice-president's help just didn't feel right. He turns to the 3rd-years and asks, "Any luck?"

"Kyoya-kun isn't responding," Mori informs.

"Neither is Haru-chan," Honey confirms.

"Well then, we'll just have to sort this through ourselves," Tamaki says, the thought of a new project perking him up a little. He turns to tell Kyoya something, then remembers. _He isn't here. Nothing is the same without Mommy to help make sense of things and now Haruhi is upset about something just when we were going to have some bonding time. So…_

"What happened?" he asks aloud as evenly as he can. He's in control of himself, working the room, his desire for family unity overriding all else. Honey and Mori look up from their devices at the younger duo and wait. The twins, in the meanwhile, squirm under their elders' scrutiny. Finally, Kaoru turns to Hikaru and says, "Hika, maybe we should just come clean about this morning."

"Not with Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai here," comes his brother's irritable reply.

"Hey," Honey complains. Mori's features remain static.

Tamaki tilts his head and queries, "What about this morning?"

"Well… it's sort of… personal," Kaoru says slowly.

Tamaki's palm hits the table. "We are a family" their blond leader stipulates in a firm voice, "and secrets are not to be kept from family."

"But you've been keeping a secret, haven't you?" Hikaru mutters just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Kyoya-senpai, too," Kaoru tags on, a bit louder to support his twin's accusation.

Four sets of eyes are now focused on the Princely Host, who is suddenly blushing furiously behind a splayed hand. Honey's eyes widen and when he looks at Mori, he finds the tall host looking back at him with an arched brow, then back at Tamaki with compassion. Honey's mouth drops open, thinking of their school-bound conversation just that morning. Tamaki, meanwhile, avoids making eye contact with any of them.

 _They know! But how? Is it obvious? Did Kyoya say something and not tell me?_ Tamaki is emotional and oftentimes clueless, but far from stupid. His mind dismisses everything but the twins' words, his discovery of the Hitachiin garment bags upon entering the salon this afternoon and his gut filling in the blanks. _Is that why Haruhi is upset? Merde._ He feels numb, overheated, sick to his stomach, angry and terrified all at the same time. It isn't until he hears Honey calling his name over and over that he realizes he's been zoned out for… _how long has it been? Feels like days._

"Tama-chan, are you alright?" Honey asks, brown eyes filled with concern but at an odd angle.

"Honey-senpai? What day is it?" Tamaki turns his head and realizes he's lying on his side, on the floor.

"Still Monday," comes the reply from Mori, who helps him up and over to a sofa before sitting beside him with Honey on Tamaki's other side. The twins are sitting in the chairs opposite. They're no longer at table but in a seating area.

"How did we end up here?" Tamaki asks.

"You fainted," says Mori, "right after the twins mentioned you keeping a secret. Is there something you want to tell us?"

He looks at the twins and says in a resigned voice. "You were here this morning, weren't you?" Two heads nod in sync. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," Kaoru states.

Hikaru says, "We didn't plan on eavesdropping, but you weren't exactly quiet either."

Tamaki gives one slow blink. "Does Kyoya know about this?"

"No," comes the joint answer.

"Does Ha-ru-hi?" he asks a bit more slowly.

"Maybe," they admit.

"What the heck does that mean?" Tamaki yells while sitting forward. Mori and Honey both grab his arms and keep him seated until the blond's body settles again.

Kaoru looks at Hikaru who looks back at him, unspoken communication passing between them. Finally, Kaoru turns back and says, "Hikaru thought he was being funny and sent a text to Haruhi this morning-"

The older Hitachiin interrupts to say, "All I said was, 'Who do you think Kyoya-senpai thinks is cuter? You or the Boss?' It was a joke..." he insists with an open palm held out in supplication.

Kaoru sees the looks of disbelief on the faces of their comrades and immediately adds "…that I tried to intercept by bumping into her and ended up killing her phone. Then, at lunch, it seemed like she read it and was all cool with it, so we figured she knew about you guys."

Hikaru picks up the thread. "But then, after club, we mentioned it being surprising that she was okay with a three-way relationship and she stormed off, all upset."

Tamaki grows still, his shoulders dropping in defeat. _Upset. My darling Haruhi is upset because of what I did. My best friend Kyoya is upset because of what I did. The twins are upset because of what I did. Everyone, everyone is upset because of me. I could have let it go. I could have. I probably should have. But I didn't because…_ "I'm an idiot," Tamaki says to himself, though he says it aloud.

"Tama-chan," the loli-shota says in a mature voice, "I know it isn't anyone's business but yours, but if you really believe that we're a family, it's okay if you want to share something with us."

"I don't know all the details, but Mitsukuni is right," Mori appends. "We're in this club because we enjoy spending time together. You say we're a family so let's be one. We stand together or we fall together. That's how a close family operates."

All the while, Tamaki's thoughts are a jumble. Backed into a corner, just like when Kasanoda forced him to admit he wasn't Haruhi's real father, the silver-tongued Host King struggles to find words. _It's okay. I'm safe here._

He looks at the young men he's come to consider friends. _I've never really told anyone but Kyoya much about my personal life, but these are my friends, my family in Japan; either they accept me - all of me - or they reject me._ He takes in a deep breath and releases it in a hitched sigh.

Staring at the blossoms on the table before him, Tamaki focuses himself. "When I was little," he begins as softly as any of them has ever heard him, "I used to get picked on in school because I took ballet class. Maman was a dancer, so it felt completely natural for me to dance, too. I had a few friends at school but I wasn't very interested in the games the boys would play and because maman was ill, I liked to go right home after classes and practice piano. Of course, all the girls loved me because I was beautiful, even then, and I liked the attention. Guess it's my destiny to make every girl happy, huh?"

He gives a hostly smile and looks around to see only quiet attention being paid. Dropping his eyes, his smile fades and he stares at his hands clasped in his lap. _They're really listening. So…_

"Things were fine until I turned 11 and a new boy came to our school. For some reason, he decided that he didn't like me. I thought I could win him over if I was just nice to him but no, that didn't work. One day he cornered me in the playground with one of his buddies and they roughed me up. The nuns stopped them before it got really ugly, but my clothes were ruined, my hair had been cut off in chunks and I had a bloody lip. I got sent home and when maman saw me, she burst into tears and so did I. Then she hugged me and said she loved me just as I was and always would, no matter what I said or did." He pauses and gathers his courage before saying, "That's how I know she'll be okay when I tell her that- I'm- gay."

For several seconds, no one moves nor utters a sound. _That's it. I've told them._ Tamaki feels as if a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders even as anxiety kicks in over their possible reactions. He can't look up and for a moment wonders, _have I made a mistake?_

Then he hears Honey say, "We're okay with it, too, Tama-chan."

"And we accept you just as you are, Boss," Hikaru states.

"And always will," Kaoru adds.

"Tamaki," Mori says to get the blond to look up. When he does, he sees worried eyes. "I don't know what's between you and Kyoya-kun and it doesn't matter, but it seems you have some decisions to make about your friendship with him and how Haru-chan fits into things."

"I know," Tamaki says heatedly. "And there's nothing between Kyoya and me except a friendship that I may have destroyed by acting without thinking." His emotions downshift and he's once more despondent. "That's why I'm an idiot and now Haruhi thinks that-" He stops short and groans as he turns back and drops his head into his hands, elbows resting on his thighs.

"No," Hikaru asserts and all but Tamaki look at him. "I'm the idiot for butting my nose in where it didn't belong and- I'm sorry, Tamaki-senpai."

"Hikaru," Kaoru says with a trace of awe in his voice as his twin becomes vehement.

"It's true, Kao. You were right this morning when you said we shouldn't jump to conclusions. And now Haruhi, who was altogether happy yesterday being with Kyoya-senpai, is upset. I can't stand seeing her like this! Or the Boss. I know we kid around a lot, but this is different." Kaoru is staring at his brother in surprise, unaccustomed to having Hikaru speak up on anyone else's behalf other than theirs.

"Wait a minute," Tamaki says, lifting his head and sitting up, composure regained. "I'm the one who should apologize. Not for who I am because I will never apologize for that, but for what I've done to involve all of you in my mess."

Honey stands up and faces Tamaki and, suddenly, the small boy seems ten feet tall. "No apology necessary," he reassures. "You're the one who told each of us that we could be exactly who we wanted to be, Tama-chan, and we're saying the same to you. We wouldn't be here otherwise. I'm just glad you trust us." He looks at his clubmates. "So what do you think we should do?"

The four hosts think over their options, but without Kyoya's pragmatism and Tamaki's enthusiasm, they're adrift without rudder and sail. Mori ultimately suggests, "Maybe we should sleep on it and see how things are tomorrow. There's been enough drama today." He stares at Hikaru who nods, then Kaoru who does the same. "Mitsukuni? I'd like to talk to Tamaki for awhile. Can you get a ride home?"

Honey looks into Mori's eyes for a long moment, understanding passing between them, then says with a familiar smile, "Sure, Takashi. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Right."

The small host is followed by the twins as they gather their belongings. Tamaki is still sitting quietly as they say their good nights and leave the salon. Mori remains seated beside the blond just sharing space with him in silence. He watches for awhile and then, in the softest of voices, says, "You love him, don't you?"

End - Chapter 38 - No Apologies

* * *

No Apologies by Trapt [Tamaki-centric]

Holding your breath, holding your tongue.  
You're only holding yourself back.  
So much to say, so far to run  
Out from the shadows you have cast.

CHORUS  
The best days of your life have yet to come.  
It's okay, it's alright to open up.  
You don't owe anybody anything.  
Life is yours to live anyway you please -  
No apologies.  
No promise left for you to keep.  
You can be whoever you want to be -  
No apologies.

Closing the door, closing your eyes.  
You're only closing yourself off.  
So much to see, so much to try.  
Don't be afraid of what you want.

CHORUS

Don't want to be no one else.  
What you see is what you get.  
No one to please.  
No apologies, no apologies.

You don't owe anybody anything.  
Life is yours to live anyway you please.  
No apologies.  
No promise left for you to keep.  
You can be whoever you want to be.  
No apologies.


	39. Hope for the Hopeless

Twilight has fully descended by the time Haruhi pushes through the doors and out into the open air. Students are still present, though most are heading away from the classrooms, club rooms and sports venues they've inhabited for the last hour or two. They may as well be invisible, Haruhi's eyes seeing but not, habit alone carrying her with determination across and off campus to the bus stop. She isn't crying, but her nose is red. The twins had provided scarf and gloves but no hat, so Haruhi clutches the soft plushy collar of her coat high around her neck and is reminded once more of the dreamy evening that had begun a little less than twenty-four hours prior. _Unbelievable._

The steel and plexi-glass bus shelter shields one from wind and wet weather, but does little to warm the body or the soul. No matter. Haruhi's emotions have her heart pumping blood vigorously throughout her body with her breathing slightly elevated as she considers what she's just heard. A few teachers are there but no other Ouran students, most having waiting vehicles or expensive cars of their own to take them home. Home, where she'll be alone for the rest of the evening with way too much time on her hands and too many thoughts in her head. She sits down on the bench and huddles into her coat, brow wrinkled in thought.

 _Kyoya and Tamaki-senpai are a couple? How could I not know that after all this time? But this is coming from the twins. _She recalls Kaoru's words from lunch.

_...It's not like we know anything specific...so just ignore him, okay?..._

The small hand clutching her collar tightens _. I swear, if they've spoken out of turn, they won't have to worry about Kyoya being angry because they'll already be dust._ She feels stronger letting anger boost her spirits, but then anxiety again overtakes her. _But what makes them think what they do?_

The bus arrives but she doesn't notice, lost in her thoughts even after the driver calls, "Getting on, young lady?" When she fails to respond, he closes the doors and the vehicle pulls away from the curb. It's only after it's half-way to the next corner does Haruhi snap to and realize she's lost her ride for at least another twenty minutes and the somewhat balmy temperature of daylight has dissipated into a thermometer dropping cold. Her petite body mass is no match for Yuki Onna's icy grip and after five minutes, she's already beginning to lose sensation in her toes.

Stepping out of the shelter, she considers going back to confront the gingers about their words but dismisses the idea before it's complete. A taxi stand is situated on the opposite side of the road. _So expensive, but it's better than frostnip. I'll jump a few stops and catch up with the bus._ Dashing to the corner, she waits at the crosswalk with other homebound commuters, the press of people restoring a semblance of warmth and normalcy around her. When the walking man lights up, her urge is to run, but jostling others would be rude, so she walks at the pace set by the group breaking stride only when her feet hit the curb on the opposite corner.

The taxi stand is no more than a post with a lit sign for a finial. Waiting ahead of her is a smartly dressed woman, fox fur edging her coat, her cloche and the stack-heeled fashion boots she wears. Haruhi can only guess at the price of such items, _but then I'm wearing an expensive coat, too. Except mine is a gift and she probably has a dozen coats just as pricey at home._ A small taxi pulls to the curb and the rear door swings open automatically. As it does, the woman turns to Haruhi and asks, "Would you like to share? I find cab fare steep and we can split the cost. I don't mind, if you don't."

Haruhi masks her surprise and looks briefly into the large dark eyes of the woman. Seeing nothing but kindness, she bows politely and says, "That would be agreeable to me, but I hate to be a burden."

"Nonsense. I saw you miss your bus and you're here. I'm in no hurry and I'm sure you can't live too far if you're a commuter student."

"Arigatou gozaimasu," Haruhi responds and enters the vehicle where it's warm and dry, two facts the chilled girl appreciates. _Sharing cab fare is good. Besides, I didn't have to use my fare card this morning, so it's okay._ Feeling better about the economics of the situation, she gives the driver her home address.

The taxi pulls away and begins the trek to Haruhi's neighborhood with Haruhi facing forward, feet side by side, bookbag laid across the tops of her stiff loafers. The scenario brings to mind that first evening when Kyoya drove her home and her feelings for him began to change. Then there was the limo ride that morning and the haunting song Kyoya had chosen just for her. _Nothing else matters. What does it all mean?_

She heaves a great sigh and hears her companion say, "Apologies for being inquisitive, but is everything alright with you?"

Haruhi doesn't feel much like conversing, but she can't just ignore it. Slipping into host mode, she angles her shoulders towards the woman and with a small smile and lowered eyes says, "It's nothing. Please don't concern yourself," then faces front once more, back stiff as thoughts swirl in her mind, even as she tries to focus on the passing street scene beyond.

After a few silent minutes, Haruhi again heaves a sigh to which her companion responds, "Being a teenager is so very painful at times, ne?" The voice is gentle and the words so on target that Haruhi feels compelled to respond.

"It's not being a teenager that's hard; it's what you have to go through to get past it," she says then turns her head and looks at her companion. The woman is in her twenties and very pretty, her lips curved into an amused smile at Haruhi's wry quip, her oval face framed by flowing black hair beneath the russet fur hat and a familiarity Haruhi doesn't understand. "And, really, I'm fine," Haruhi continues. "It's been a long day and my friends just got the better of me. I should know not to accept what they say at face value, but I let my imagination and my emotions take over. It's… complicated."

"Ah," the woman says, her expression soft as she turns her attention to her fingers tugging off her leather gloves. "Relationships always are this way. Friendship is complex and love even more so." She looks back at Haruhi, where surprise must be written because she adds, "No, I'm not psychic. I just remember what it's like to be young and in love and worried about it. I used to sigh just like you've been doing whenever I had boy troubles."

A genuinely curious Haruhi turns at the waist and asks, "Does getting older help?" and the woman pauses for a few moments, looking thoughtful.

"You do tend to make better decisions as you get older, but love is love no matter your age, and all those wonderful and awful feelings that go with loving someone are Life's teachers."

Haruhi's shoulders slump and she sits back. "Maybe it's a lesson I don't want to learn," she replies softly while shaking her head. Sensation is returning to her toes and she wiggles them gratefully inside her loafers.

"Perhaps. Hurt is never easy to bear but how will you know what joy feels like without sorrow?"

 _I know sorrow. I just wish I didn't know it so well_. "So, what does one do?"

"Well, I've always thought that if it's sorrow because of something you can not change, you must endure and find the lesson. But, if it's sorrow because of something you can change, you must take responsibility for your part in it and do what you can to make things better. The important thing is to face it with honesty and courage and not run away from it."

Color rises to Haruhi's cheeks as she considers the woman's words knowing she's guilty of that very act less than an hour ago. _But she's right. It was cowardly to run away and very unlike me._ "I have to admit," she says, "my mother never backed down from a challenge and neither will I."

"I see. Your mother is a wise woman, then."

"Was. She passed away ten years ago, but sometimes I can still hear her wisdom." Haruhi recalls her "vision" from yesterday and her heart squeezes.

"Of course. Those we love are always with us, are they not?"

"I hope so."

"Then your mother in heaven must be very proud of you for attending as prestigious a school as Ouran Elite Private Academy."

Brows knit. "How do you know I attend Ouran?"

"The logo on your book bag, of course."

Haruhi glances briefly at the ubiquitous item, having forgotten all about the small gold plates that, on one side of every student's bag, has their last name engraved in kanji and on the other, the Ouran crest. "Oh. Well, yeah," she says, "but I only just began this year. I'm an honor student on scholarship. It's a tough school, but I want to become a lawyer like my mom was, so I have to work very hard to stay at the top of my class."

"I'm certain of this. I could have attended there, but my training schedule made home tutoring necessary. Sometimes I wish I had gone to a regular high school. It might have been fun. Do you enjoy Ouran?"

"That might not be the best question to ask me today," comes the wry reply. _If Ouran is a regular high school, I'm six feet tall._ "It took some adjusting but I've made some good friends. They're mostly boys, though, and sometimes I feel like a mother hen with wayward chicks when I'm with them."

The woman laughs softly with her hand over her mouth. When it drops, she says, "My brother is a student there now. He's a 2nd-year. Perhaps you know him?"

"What's his name?"

"Ootori, Kyoya."

Haruhi's jaw drops open but she quickly recovers. "You're Ootori Fuyumi-sama?"

"Yes. Then you know him?"

"We're in the same club together."

"The Host Club?"

Haruhi's eyes grow wide. "You know about that?"

Fuyumi's chin lifts. "Of course. I am an Ootori, after all." Fuyumi sounds so much like Kyoya in that single moment that Haruhi can't help but smile. "Besides," she continues, "I speak with Kyoya on a regular basis and he mentions it quite often. Soooo, you must also know Suoh Tamaki."

Haruhi drops her head in chagrin, then lifts it slightly so she can see Fuyumi's face. "Everyone at Ouran Academy seems to know Tamaki-senpai."

"I'm not surprised. He's such a delight, isn't he?" Her compliment is sincere.

"A delight? We are talking about Suoh Tamaki, aren't we?" Haruhi's sarcasm is laced with fondness, despite her mixed emotions.

A bubble of laughter escapes Fuyumi. "Yes, why?"

Haruhi lifts her head fully. "I don't know if I'd call him a delight, but he is... conspicuous."

"That, too." Fuyumi pulls back and considers the brunette for a moment before saying. "You, then, must be Fujioka Haruhi."

"I suppose I must," comes the sighed response. "Has Kyoya-senpai mentioned me?"

Fuyumi looks away for a few moments as if recollecting snippets of conversation, then back. "You could say that. In fact, you could say that, lately, your name comes up more than any other."

"More than Tamaki-senpai's?" The question is out before she can think twice about asking, knowing that it's impertinent.

Ootori breeding, however, is ingrained and Fuyumi's protectiveness of her younger brother has her side step the query by commenting, "I remember him mentioning you and a broken vase."

"Don't remind me," Haruhi grouses. "It's actually how I became a member in the first place."

Fuyumi nods. "I recall hearing that, as well. And that you are exceptionally bright, talented and blended in quite easily with all those handsome boys. And they are handsome. I've met them all."

"Did he tell you that I have to pretend to be a boy and dress like one?"

"Indeed he did, which now explains the lovely woman's coat with boys' trousers and loafers. Excuse me, but the androgynous look was intriguing."

"Intriguing, huh? That sounds like something Kyoya-senpai might say."

"Does it? Of course, I would never speak for my brother, but he seems quite fond of you, Fujioka-san."

Haruhi hears the sentiment more than the words, honesty striking her squarely in the chest. Haruhi is now turned fully at the waist, as is Fuyumi, so that the two seem like old friends instead of new acquaintances.

"Well," Haruhi says, finally warm and relaxed, a function of the vibe given off by the slightly older woman sitting beside her. "Just how crazy is it that we should meet this way? I would have thought you'd have a chauffeur, like Kyoya-senpai."

"I'm married now and my husband feels that it's important to learn how to get on in the world independently, so I go shopping from time to time using only commoner transportation."

"Tokyo taxis may be commoner transport, but their prices are certainly elite," Haruhi says.

"Which is why I offer to share the fare, when I can. It gives me an opportunity to speak with commoners, which I enjoy very much. In fact, Tamaki-kun and I have been exchanging recipes and notes on commoner foods for some time now."

 _Commoners, huh?_ "Doesn't surprise me in the least. He sees  me as his personal pet project, to say nothing about his calling me 'daughter' as part of playing house."

"That sounds like him, but it's understandable when you know his background. Attachments under unusual circumstances become anchors." Haruhi only understands a part of her statement and the rest puzzles her. Fuyumi is unaware as she chatters on. "But, yes, it certainly is serendipitous for us to meet in this manner. You could have waited for the next bus."

"I could have, but my toes couldn't."

"Ah, yes. Real men don't get cold, but today it seems you are only half a man?"

"You mean the coat. It was a gift from two friends," Haruhi explains. _Even if those friends are dummies._

"The Hitachiin twins?"

Haruhi nods. "You seem to know quite a lot about us. I'm a bit surprised senpai has spoken so freely about me - uh, the club."

"Kyoya does play things close to the vest, except for a handful of people. I consider myself honored to be one of them."

"Then his trust is well-placed from what he's told me, which isn't much."

"And it's unlikely that that will change. As you said before, it's complicated."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. But, can you at least explain how you ended up near Ouran today?"

"I enjoy Bunkyo District's egalitarian flair and come here quite often. Here, Ginza and Harujuku; each one so different and yet so similar. Of course, my father would never let me shop on Takeshita Street while I lived at home, but he longer owns me and my husband is so very wonderful and open-minded about things. It was a lovely surprise to learn that about him."

 _She sounds a bit quirky for an Ootori, but I like that about her. In fact, I like_ _her_ _a lot._ "Then you were introduced?"

"Yes, but Hiroshi and I quickly fell in love after we met. I'm lucky. Some of my friends are desperately unhappy in their marriages, but they'll keep up a good front and enjoy being socialites."

"Ootori-sama?"

"Fuyumi, please."

"Fuyumi, then. I have to admit that when you offered to share the taxi tonight, I was a little hesitant, but I'm glad we had a chance to meet. Serendipitous or otherwise."

"More like fated, to me. So tell me, does your boy trouble have anything to do with another Ouran student?" Fuyumi's brows rise and her smile is enigmatic.

"He's a 2nd-year from an upper crust family and I am just a commoner."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Are you sure you're an Ootori?" Haruhi asks in blunt fashion, her eyes narrowing as she cocks her head.

Another bubble. "My maiden name is Ootori and I am quite proud of that fact, but my married name is Shido, so I can escape the mantle of onerous Ootori responsibility using that as my escape hatch. So which elite family claims this noble son as their own? Maybe I know them."

"I'm pretty sure you do. It's…Kyoya." Haruhi lets the name with lack of honorific settle in Fuyumi's mind and notes her composure, knowing she's well aware of the ramifications such a societal mismatch engenders.

"Ah so. You're friends?"

Haruhi is tempted to spill her heart to the warm and gracious young woman beside her, but refrains. "We've gotten to know one another as friends over the last year, but things changed and we went on a date last night."

"Did it not go well?"

"It did, despite a few unusual events."

"You were the one with Kyoya last evening," states Fuyumi, revealing that the information isn't novel and Haruhi isn't surprised. "He worried me quite a lot, you know."

Haruhi leans forward. "Are you kidding? I was frantic. Is he really okay? Does that happen often? Thank goodness Tachibana-san was there. And I didn't actually meet your older brother, but I saw him and I've heard about him." _From Kyoya's point of view._

"Yuuichi is an excellent physician so if anything was seriously amiss, I would know. Your concern reflects your affection for Kyoya."

"I think we have something genuine, but we do come from very different worlds and I'm not sure we can bridge that gap." She pauses, then adds, "There's also the possibility that his interest is temporary."

"Fujioka-san. Haruhi. Listen to me," Fuyumi says with some seriousness. "My family tree is filled with remarkable people, some of whom have been nobility for centuries, but also others who, through effort and determination, have carved out their own path to success from less lofty origins. My older brothers are content to follow my father's design and so was Kyoya, until he met Tamaki. That…conspicuous…fellow has done more to help Kyoya find his "voice" than anyone I know until, perhaps, now."

Haruhi lightly places a "who me?" hand on her chest, a bit worried.

"I'm glad of it," Fuyumi reassures. "Oh, I know Kyoya can come across as a bit buttoned-up to those who see only the surface of things, but what lies beneath is a good heart that cares deeply. The Host Club has helped him accept that in himself and Tamaki? Tamaki is the curve in the straight line Kyoya walks and vice versa. They're good for each other that way."

"I know. I see it. And I used to be intimidated by Kyoya, but not any more. I know he's a good person, an incredible person actually."

"Then why do you doubt him?" Again, Haruhi hears Kyoya's similar query from their club room rendezvous.

Taking a breath, she discloses, "Because it could end badly and feelings could be hurt."

"Particularly yours, ne?"

"Yes," Haruhi murmurs and looks at her hands resting in her lap.

A brief silence and then it's Fuyumi who voices a sigh. "I wish I could tell you that it will all be fine, but we take a risk in giving our heart to someone else. The only thing you really have to decide is, is the reward worth the risk?"

Haruhi thinks about the last few weeks and how her feelings for the cool Host have dramatically shifted in that time. "I think I decided that when he appeared in my doorway yesterday, umbrella in hand." She looks back up and noting confusion on Fuyumi's face adds, "Never mind. I know it's worth the risk and I know what I have to do," comes the assured answer followed by a groan. "Except my phone is toast."

"That's easily remedied," comes the sure reply as Fuyumi reaches into her Birkin and extracts an iPhone, taps a few icons and hands the unit to Haruhi. "Just press 'Call.' It'll ring up Kyoya."

Haruhi takes the phone in hand and the two females look at one another, the older with a nod of encouragement and the younger with small hum of agreement. _Win or lose, I can't just walk away without fighting for what I want and who I want in my life. And I want Kyoya - all to myself. If he doesn't want the same thing, he's going to have to tell me face to face. Today._

END - Chapter 39 - Hope for the Hopeless

* * *

Hope for the Hopeless by A Fine Frenzy [Fuyumi-centric]

Stitch in your knitted brow  
And you don't know how  
You're gonna get it out.  
Crushed under heavy chest,  
Trying to catch your breath;  
But it always beats you by a step, alright now.

Making the best of it.  
Playing the hand you get.  
You're not alone in this.  
There's hope for the hopeless. (2x)  
There's hope.

Cold in a summer breeze.  
Yeah, you're shivering  
On your bended knee.  
Still, when you're heart is sore  
And the heavens pour,  
Like a willow bending with the storm, you'll make it.

Running against the wind.  
Playing the cards you get.  
Something is bound to give.  
There's hope for the hopeless. (2x)  
There's hope. (4x)


	40. Serendipity

Haruhi's heart is sore, but her stomach flutters as she stares at the iphone, frozen, though not from the cold. _What can I say exactly? I can't get into it here with Fuyumi right next to me, but I can't pretend either._ Drawing in a long breath through her nose and releasing it, she presses 'Call' just as Fuyumi instructs and just as promptly, disconnects.

"What's the matter?" Fuyumi asks, seeing the girl's stilted actions.

"Uhh. Don't you think it might confuse Kyoya if he's expecting to hear your voice and hears mine instead? He might think something is terribly wrong." _C'mon Haruhi. You can do this._

Fuyumi tilts her head, "I hadn't considered that, but you're right. It's probably best if I make the initial contact."

Haruhi hands the device back and the raven-haired girl places the call as Haruhi collects her thoughts _. Nothing has been proven, but I have to be honest with him, and myself, about everything._

In a genial manner, Fuyumi begins. "Otouta-chan? It's onee-san. ...Fine, thank you. How are you feeling today? ... Oh! … Of course, but I think you should know that there's someone with me who I believe you know. Does the name Fujioka Haruhi sound familiar?" Fuyumi smiles at whatever Kyoya is saying. "We inexplicably ended up sharing a cab and she is lovely, but a little stressed out. I didn't pry, but you can speak with her yourself." Fuyumi hands the phone to Haruhi, then turns away and begins to search through her tote for an imaginary something. Haruhi turns towards the window with the phone cradled against the ear closest to, just to create an illusion of privacy.

"Kyoya? S'me," she murmurs.

"Haruhi, what is going on? How in the world did you and my sister end up sharing a taxi?"

Upon hearing his voice, albeit confused, the brunette's fears begin to dissipate. _I know I should be smart and keep my guard up but, I can't. I can't._ Neither can she stop the way her pulse and her breath have quickened. "Kyoya," she begins, allowing affection to slip around the syllables of his name. "I'll tell you all about it, but right now - are you okay?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. It was really nothing, last evening. My medical issue, certainly not our date," he amends. "That was rather pleasant for me and, I hope, for you as well."

Haruhi's mouth purses to one side. "Pleasant?" she queries, a soft edge to her voice. "Is that the best you can come up with to describe our day together?" Her irritation is mild, but present. "I'm sure you can do better than that, Mr. Number One in Class 2-A."

"Haruhi, don't," comes the suddenly serious response.

"I'm sorry," she says, remorse immediate. "I'm only teasing. I think I've earned that privilege, don't you?"

"Perhaps. It's just that after meeting with my father this afternoon, I'm feeling like a pincushion with one too many pins stuck into it."

"What happened?" Haruhi's voice is filled with concern and ready comfort as his reined in emotion is allowed some liberty.

"As I've told you, my parents, particularly my father, expect a great deal from me and although I've tried to meet his demands, it seems I have disappointed him, yet again."

"That's not possible."

"It seems that it is and I believe we've had this conversation before." He waits a second or two, then, in a softer voice, "Haven't we?" She leans into the phone at his reference to their salon rendezvous, his mood shift tugging at her heartstrings.

"Yes, we have, and I still think he's wrong."

"I'm accustomed to it." His sudden dismissive response would have fooled her in the past, but no longer, and Haruhi swears she hears a sigh.

"Kyoya, is it possible to see you tonight, even for a little while? I know we have school tomorrow-"

"An excellent idea," he interrupts, "but only for a little while. We have school tomorrow-"

"Where can we meet?"

"You can decide. It doesn't matter to me." Pause. "I need to see you." His subtle emphasis on "need" mirrors her own compulsion to see his face, smell his scent and feel his arms about her with his lips on hers once more. It's a heady brew for the teenaged girl unfamiliar with the roller coaster of love. _Keep your head on straight, Haruhi. Don't let emotion rule you. Oh, who am I kidding?_

"Me, too," she says softly and then a thought occurs to her. She turns back to Fuyumi, who is examining her gloves quite thoroughly, and asks, "Does this phone have a Tokyo directory?"

"Naturally. What do you need?"

"Haruhi," she hears Kyoya call and she tips her head towards the source of the voice to which she's quickly grown addicted.

"Yes?"

"May I please speak with my sister?"

"Of course," she replies and returns the device. "He wants to speak to you."

Fuyumi takes it and asks, "How can I help?" her voice unabashedly conspiratorial, her attitude evoking a tight-lipped smile from the girl beside her.

Haruhi's reservations, questions and willingness to end her blossoming romance with the young Ootori for any reason have faded, but in yin-yang fashion, her rational mind counters. _Don't be naïve. So what if there was something between them at one time? That's changed. Has it? I can deal with that, can't I? I just need to know the truth. Yes.  
_

She watches Fuyumi's face grow serious, then annoyed, then calm once more. "My, my Kyoya," she says, at last. "You've been more than dutiful and you're an extraordinary person. You know that and I'm not the only one who thinks so." She winks at Haruhi. "This lockdown doesn't begin until tomorrow, ne? ... So tonight you're having dinner with your sister and her family, and one other guest." She tips her head towards Haruhi in silent invitation. Without thinking, Haruhi nods, though her thoughts are aswirl.

 _Dinner with Kyoya's family? Are we already at that point? But he's had lunch with Dad and me. And what does she mean by lockdown? Sounds awful._ She's somewhat reassured as she hears Fuyumi speaking casually to Kyoya, lovingly. _Must be nice to have a sibling you trust. I thought I finally did._ Her irritation with the twins' meddling finds footing, then recedes. _I'll deal with them tomorrow. Right now, I just want to spend time with Kyoya. Nothing else matters,_ she recalls as the morning's message begins to clarify itself, if only to herself.

Fuyumi has been listening and finally says, "You're on the verge of becoming a senior at Ouran Academy, you sit at the top of a very competitive class and whether or not you get into Tokyo U. or M.I.T or ETH, you're going to be a success. You already are, so I think you can manage your own schedule, don't you?... Of course I'll speak with him, after he's cooled down a bit. Just go with it for a few days. Why don't you head to my penthouse?"

 _Penthouse?_ Haruhi is still processing the word as Fuyumi ends the call and tucks the smartphone into her tote. After giving altered instructions to the cab driver, she turns towards the brunette. "It seems my father has placed restrictions on my brother's activities and socializing for awhile."

"He's grounded?"

"In a manner of speaking. My father has done this with all of my brothers. It's a show of power but, being the youngest, Kyoya is under more than his fair share of scrutiny. I know my father blames Tamaki for Kyoya's so-called rebellion. I do, too. The difference is that I'm happy that Tamaki has freed Kyoya from blind obedience, which is what my little brother thought was required in order to please my father."

"But he seems so affected by what your parents think of him."

"He is, but in a more limited way now. I imagine he'll be offered scholarships both in Japan and abroad. If he chooses wisely, he won't be dependent on my father's financial support for university. He can follow his own path."

"He's told me that he wants to become an architect."

"True and he's perfectly suited for it."

"I didn't know he was artistic."

Fuyumi raises a brow. "Kyoya isn't just artistic, Haruhi. He's gifted. Hasn't he shown you his drawings?"

"Drawings?"

"His specialty. Rice paper and ink stone or simply a sheet of paper and pencil have always made him happiest."

Haruhi recalls their limo conversation. And now, to hear Fuyumi validate not just his interest, but his ability, makes her wonder if she really knows him at all. The memory of a shopping mall expedition crosses her mind. That day, she'd learned something about him that she'd suspected for some time: Kyoya is an onion. One had to be careful in peeling back the layers or one could be left crying. Done right, however, the flavor is piquant and delicious.

"It's as if there's an entire other person inside of the one he shows people," she says aloud.

"So you've noticed. Not many do. I think my brother's trust in you is well-placed."

Haruhi smiles, then says, "But doesn't your father want him to study business or medicine or law?"

"Naturally. And a few years ago, I know that Kyoya would have stifled his dreams and done exactly what my father required. He's been doing it for years, ever since my mother…" And she stops.

Haruhi's common sense and sensitivity kick in. "S'ok, Fuyumi. If it's personal, it's personal. I just want you both to know that whatever family issues you have, I won't judge you." _If you only knew why._

"I do, but I think it best if Kyoya shares with you what he feels comfortable sharing when he's ready."

"I value honesty and openness, but I respect privacy. There is, though, something I'm curious about."

"Yes?"

"Do you really live in a penthouse?" Fuyumi laughs and Haruhi apologizes, adding, "I couldn't help overhearing."

"Pretty hard not to in a kogatasha. I overheard you, too. Yes, I do, and you sound sweet on my brother."

"I am," Haruhi admits, then shrugs. "It sort of crept up on me when I wasn't paying attention and then, all of a sudden, wham!"

Fuyumi is charmed. "That's rather direct of you to say. I imagine it's one of the things Kyoya likes about you."

Haruhi's face is expectant, eager to hear what he's told his sibling. "Being wealthy, brilliant, _and_ handsome makes him quite the soon-to-be eligible bachelor among the Great Families' sons. Any other male, including my older brothers, would use any or all of those factors to influence young ladies they liked to their advantage. Kyoya never has. In fact, it's usually the other way around, which is why he keeps his distance. You have no idea how cunning high society families can be."

"Actually, I think I do. I attend Ouran Academy, remember?"

"So you've seen it for yourself."

"In some people, not all. I have to admit I've had to adjust my attitude regarding the elite."

"In what way?"

Haruhi groans. _Foot in mouth, here I am_. "Well," she begins. "I guess I never realized how really different rich kids' lives are until I started attending school with them. And some of them are perfectly nice, though all of them are what I would call spoiled." Fuyumi doesn't respond, so Haruhi continues. "It's not the money that bothers me, either. It's the attitude that enough is never enough and they're entitled to whatever they want."

Fuyumi regards her purposefully and nods. "You realize that the students at Ouran are expected to perform at a very high level, don't you?" Fuyumi asks.

"Yes, and I know Class A is the academic crème de la crème. It's the social piece that bugs me."

"It must seem petty to classify people that way, but our country's history is full of violent power struggles, as you well know."

"And?" Haruhi queries, unsure how Ouran's placement policy relates to Japanese history.

"It was only the strongest families that rose to lasting influence and while some used force against the people to maintain control, many of the Great Families found other ways and only employed force in defense of themselves and the people who looked to them for protection."

"The commoners?"

"You probably hate that term, don't you?" Fuyumi's demeanor is one of empathy, _though she can't even begin to understand_.

"I'm not fond of it. I hear it way too frequently used as a casual put-down by way too many Ouran students, Host Club included."

"It's teenage hubris. Try to ignore it because they're so wrong. Being one of the common people isn't a bane, it's a blessing. The responsibility of maintaining civilization falls on the shoulders of those in power. Food production and health care, energy and conservation, education and diplomacy - these concerns are often taken for granted by the general population while those who manage such things are only too aware of their fragility. So, altruism aside, who would work that hard for so long for so many without a measure of reward?"

Haruhi mulls the concept in her mind. "I've never thought of it like that and it doesn't sound wrong when you explain it that way. It's just that Ouran's students seem to have no concern for the harsh realities of life outside of their little world."

"And that is a problem we face, as a group. It's why I take the time to get out and speak with people from different walks of life. I want to learn about them, so I can understand them and eventually help them."

"What is it you do for a living?"

"Right now, I'm a full-time mother to my son who is only a toddler. I admit that he has a nanny, but I am his mother and I spend time with him every day."

"I respect any parent who has their child's welfare at heart. But don't you have other dreams?"

"I do fundraising for causes I believe in and although my father thinks I'm going to eventually study Business Administration, I have a different plan."

"Eh?"

Fuyumi leans towards Haruhi. "I want, somehow, to work with Japan's aging population. They've been through so much during their lives - have seen horrible devastation, suffered through natural disasters, and watched technology complicate much of what they understood for most of their lives. They are the foundation of Japan becoming a First World nation after the Western agression, but for many of our elderly, especially in rural areas, the benefits of modern living have been slow to take hold."

"How would you change that?"

"I'm studying Political Science through an online program and, eventually, I want to enter politics. Oh, not until my son is older; but our youth-obsessed, misogynistic society needs to find balance in the 21st century."

 _Whoa. Who'd have thought?_ "That's great, Fuyumi-san. I've never considered age or gender to be a plus _or_ a minus, but I see what you mean."

"Just Fuyumi, remember? Even how we use honorifics is part of a changing outlook. Yet, despite advances for women in accessing positions of power, it's difficult unless you have significant family ties and financial wherewithal."

Haruhi hears the same passion in Fuyumi that she's heard in Kyoya. _They're different, yet similar._ "I like that you want to make a difference in the world. I do, too."

"But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves, does it?"

"No."

"There's also family. And friendship. And love, ne?"

 _Friendship, family, love. I want those, too._ "Fuyumi, do you think I could use your phone again? I should let my dad know my plans."

"Of course."

The smartphone re-emerges and Haruhi texts Ryoji a message. "He's a single dad and I'm his only child, so he hovers."

"And you're thoughtful. Another quality I'm sure my brother finds..."

"Intriguing?"

"Compelling."

They smile at one another, then lapse into silence, a feeling of latent friendship between them. The taxi passes into the Roppongi Hills area and Haruhi blinks at the brightly lit Tokyo Tower, its spire peeking between buildings, reaching to the heavens amidst businesses, shops, museums and residences with rents that reach to the heavens, too. _And she lives in a penthouse apartment? I guess Kyoya really meant it when he said his family has more money than I could dream of. This_ _is_ _a dream._

The taxi pulls to the curb, Fuyumi pays the fare and they step outside onto an expanse of sidewalk so clean and dry that Haruhi wonders if winter has even been here. As they head towards the entrance, a uniformed doorman opens the door for them. Fuyumi stops to inquire about the man's family and pleasantries are exchanged. They head into an ultra-modern lobby where Fuyumi collects her mail and they cross the stone-tiled floor to enter a golden elevator. Once the doors close, she speaks her name aloud in an ordinary tone of voice and the lift rises, though Haruhi hardly feels the movement until a gentle bump brings them to a stop and the interior electronic sign reads "PH."

The elevator doors slide open into a brightly lit foyer. An elderly gentleman appears from nowhere, greeting them and taking their outerwear before disappearing again. A forty-something woman dressed in simple garb enters and approaches them.

"Good evening, Shido-sama," the woman says.

"Good evening, Sora-san." Fuyumi gestures for Haruhi to follow as she and the nanny head down a long corridor, chatting earnestly about the baby's afternoon.

"Has my brother arrived yet?" Fuyumi asks when the elderly houseman appears ahead of them in an open doorway leading off the hall and is told, "A short time ago, madam. He's in the living room." A few more feet and the nanny steps to one side of a broad archway to allow her employer and guest enter the room ahead of her.

Haruhi might have taken note of the lofted space filled with plush furnishings set amidst a neutral palette of colors reflecting the contemporary but comfortable nature of its inhabitants. She might have, had not her attention been drawn to a most unusual sight.

The Shadow King of the Ouran High School Host Club is jogging around the room with a squealing toddler atop his shoulders.

End - Chapter 40 - Serendipity

* * *

Serendipity by The Cranberries [Haruhi-centric]

Serendipity - a cosmic coincidence.  
Serendipity - the unfolding of events.  
Serendipity - that brought us to the moment that we're in.*

Do you believe that this makes sense?  
Could you conceive the unfolding of events?  
Do you believe that this is...serendipity?

Serendipity? Serendipity?

(Song repeats. Third repeat ends at *)


	41. Who We Are

In the outer office of his father's Executive Suite, Kyoya picks up his coat from the chair beside Seijiro's desk, the assistant standing in respect, eyes averted as the young Ootori dons the garment in silence. Tachibana rises from a nearby couch, alert but inconspicuous.

 _No matter what my father thinks he knows, he can't possibly know exactly what happened the other night. Or can he? Kama-sama, why did I let myself get seduced by that idiot blond? More troubling is, who would betray me?_ Both questions and their possible answers burn in the the pit of his stomach. The issue of his sexuality is secondary to him compared to his ability to trust those around him.

As he considers both issues, he notices that his bookbag is not where he'd placed it beneath his coat upon entering. Hackles already raised, he retrieves it from where it rests on the floor beside the chair and places it on the seat, fishing into it for his smartphone. It's missing. A slight turn of his face towards the assistant confirms his suspicions as the man holds it out to him, unperturbed.

Kyoya straightens and takes the device in hand. "You want to tell me your orders?" he asks in a quiet voice.

"You understand that as your father's aide, I obey his instructions even if I personally would never indulge in such behavior."

"Thank you for the needless disclaimer," comes the acerbic reply in a too-polite manner. Seijiro hears the underlying cut, knowing that he's but the deflected target of the young scion's ire.

"Just know that I do not mean any disrespect to you, young sir. As usual, the Chairman has asked that I recover your contacts list and your text messages."

"And I have obliged him by leaving my password unchanged, as is my duty to him despite being of an age when such compliance should no longer be mandatory."

"Your filial piety is commendable. I'm sure it has not gone unnoticed."

"Actually," Kyoya says, "I rather wish my father's notice was a bit less rigorous. Is there anything else about which you wish to inform me?"

Despite being employed by the elder Ootori, Seijiro admires the young man before him both for his presence and his potential as a future employer. Thus, he smartly models the very behavior that, though personally abhorrent, marks him as a trustworthy lieutenant in the corporate battlefield. "Yes," he says without inflection.

"What is it?" Kyoya asks, his demeanor shifting in nuance as the lenses of his glasses flash and he pushes them up with two fingers.

"It was requested that the contents of your laptop be made equally available and this, too, has been accomplished."

Kyoya's anger is betrayed only by a slight flare of his nostrils, yet his demeanor remains unchanged. "Your loyalty to my father has merit but I need to know: has anything been altered or erased?"

"Nothing, Ootori-sama. He merely wished to examine its contents to be assured that you remain focused on your schoolwork."

"Of course," comes the almost pleasant reply. _Though I'm sure that isn't the only thing he's seeking. Not after today._ "Is there anything else he's required of you?"

"Only to tell you that until he deems it so, you are to confine your activities to school and home."

"It's been discussed," Kyoya says with a dismissive wave of his hand then grabs his bookbag and leaves the office, out of the building and into the frigid air of early evening that somehow feels warmer than the air of the space he's just vacated. _It's of no merit to oppose my father now, but one day…and soon…he will learn who it is with whom he spars._

The car is waiting at the curb, Hotta standing beside the door, his appearance as it usually is, yet something is amiss. Kyoya's keen observational skills detect a subtle nervousness in the bald-headed chauffeur. Squaring his shoulders, he approaches the vehicle. As Hotta opens the door, Kyoya pauses and says, "Is everything alright, Hotta-san?"

A trace of color appears on the man's cheeks. "Just a bit under the weather today, Kyoya-sama."

"Ah so," comes the terse reply, leaving Hotta unsettled. Kyoya turns to Tachibana and says, "I'd like to walk a bit."

"Yes, Kyoya-sama," says Hotta.  
"Of course, young Master," says Tachibana.

"Thank you. I won't keep you out long. You have other things you must want to do, I'm sure." The brunet's tone is formal but warmer than usual. Hotta's brows subtly arch at the show of consideration, this the third time in as many days that his employer's son has demonstrated atypical behavior. Tachibana is expressionless, but for the minute tic of his head, betraying his equal startle.

"I am at your disposal, young Master, to serve and protect," the bodyguard states as Kyoya hands his bookbag to his driver, then turns and heads down the broad sidewalk thick with people, a rippling fabric of humanity - the young heir and his bodyguard but two of many interweaving threads. Hotta closes the door of the vehicle with a heavy thud, feeling remorse that he is unable to reiterate the sentiment of his colleague.

Kyoya breathes into layers of muffler wrapped high around his throat and over his mouth and nose, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his woolen duffle as he walks without any other purpose but to move forward, if only physically, as he grapples with his obligations to his family, his friends and to the girl who has found a niche in his heart. _Haruhi…_ And with that on his lips, an image comes to mind as she appeared, leaning back against the wall beside her apartment door, his body pressed against hers, savoring the way they fit together - so right, her eyes closed, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from their many kisses kisses he wants again. Kisses and more.

_I want her. I need her. And it isn't just about sex. That's easily enough gotten with a few sweet words, a glove and the lure of satisfaction for us both. A simple matter to oblige the average girl, wealthy or not - a service, actually._

He chuckles to himself at his vanity, then shakes his head in self-deprecation. _But I am a Host, after all, an expert at making women happy even if I never promise them a thing. Except not much impresses or charms Haruhi, though I think I could change that, too. Question is: do I want her through manipulation or of her own volition?_ And to that query, he already knows the answer.

He imagines what might have happened had not Ryoji arrived home sooner than expected on Sunday or if he hadn't come home at all: thoughts of unbuttoning a white blouse while lying on Haruhi's futon and exploring the young woman at length, eliciting from her soft sounds of pleasure. Kyoya unwinds his scarf and untoggles the top toggle of his coat to cool himself down as his thoughts meander. A gust of icy wind brings him back to reality. _That's enough of that, Ootori. This isn't the time or place, and this is Haruhi we're talking about. She's different, she's special, she's… a virgin. And so was I, once._

Time spent with Suzuki Momiji in Karuizawa the summer after he'd turned fifteen infiltrate his thoughts. Tennis and sex were what she taught and he'd learned both well. The libidinous adolescent had enjoyed himself thoroughly, his knowledge of how to please a girl expanded and absorbed as eagerly and completely as any other subject. His interest in the opposite gender seemed certain until Tamaki confounded everything he thought he knew about himself and his desires.

_What happened with Tamaki wasn't love, not the way he wants it to be. It was interesting and satisfying, in its way, but homosexual sex doesn't appeal to me in the long term, so if a choice has to be made, my choice is clear. I want Haruhi in my life_ _ and _ _in my bed, but I don't want to lose my best friend, either. Dammit._

He ponders his dilemma, moving slowly towards a corner curb, Tachibana right behind him. The walking man glows and the bodyguard stays close to his charge as they cross the intersection. Kyoya doesn't think twice about any of it, accustomed to the man's proximity and protection.

 _I have to tell Haruhi; I owe that to her. If nothing else, Tamaki was right about one thing this morning: if I don't tell her the truth now, she won't ever trust me. But if I pretend what happened with Tamaki was meaningless, I dishonor our friendship. And if I try to justify my behavior-_ He pauses, but his thoughts push on _. I am no different than my father._ He stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you alright, Kyoya-sama?" Tachibana's voice shakes Kyoya from his reverie.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," he assures the man at his side, commuters moving around them with pointed glances and small grumbles.

"Are you sure?" Tachibana asks, grabbing Kyoya's elbow and guiding him to the other side of the road and beside a looming office building.

"Yes, of course. I'm just… a little… distracted." The way he says the last word reveals his surprise at the uncustomary state of being. And then his phone goes off, which doesn't surprise him in the least. He pulls the device from his pocket and seeing the name of the caller, gestures to Tachibana to accompany him into the lobby. It's quieter inside and his "moshi moshi" reflects familiarity with the caller.

"Otouta-chan? It's onee-san."

"Ah, Fuyumi. How are you? … I'm perfectly fine physically, though rather roughed up in other ways … Can you hear me? I'm in the lobby of a building near Father's office … Haruhi? And just how did my lovely date and you end up together?" He listens, a bemused smile on his lips and then he hears the voice he's wanted to hear all day.

"Kyoya. S'me," murmurs the girl he took to the ballet last evening, the friend he's come to admire over the last year and the one person who he knows with absolute certainty he can't wait to see again. Just hearing her voice calms him.

"Haruhi, what is going on? How in the world did you and my sister end up sharing a taxi?..…I'm doing well, thank you. It was really nothing, last evening. _Wait. No_. My medical issue, certainly not our date," he amends. "That was rather pleasant for me and, I hope, for you as well."

His smile grows as he hears her chide, but her concern is genuine, compelling him to bask in her understanding and reveal more of himself. Her reminder of his worth conjures their salon encounter and he finds himself softly reminding her of it, then recovers himself. _How unlike me._

She asks, "Kyoya, is it possible to see you tonight, even for a little while? I know we have school tomorrow-"

"An excellent idea," he interrupts, "but only for a little while. We have school tomorrow-"

"Where can we meet?" Her longing is as clear as his own, their unspoken message: I want to be where you are.

"You can decide. It doesn't matter to me. I need to see you." _And touch you, taste you. As much as you will give me is as much as I will take._

"Me, too," she says softly, stirring his blood while pulling at his emotions in unfamiliar ways he's beginning to appreciate.

He hears Haruhi ask a question of Fuyumi and a thought blinks on, prompting a request to speak with his sister. He relates to her his restricted status, adding, "It seems no matter what I do, I'm never as good a son as Yuuichi or Akito. He is my father and has plans for me, but I resent his discounting my input and my efforts. Might you speak with him on my behalf about this curtailment of my schedule?"

Fuyumi's reassurance and dinner invitation lifts his spirits, particularly when Haruhi's presence is assured. His thrill at the thought of spending time with Haruhi when he isn't expecting it is palpable, his frustrations with the day's events demoted to mere annoyances.

Concluding the conversation and disengaging the call, he turns to Tachibana. "I'm having dinner with my sister tonight, and I'd like to get there as quickly as possible, please." Tachibana nods and they leave the building. A signal made at curbside brings the Mercedes to them in short order and Kyoya settles into the soft upholstery of the vehicle feeling far better than he has all day. _And this, because of her, once more._

As the vehicle navigates traffic, Kyoya is reminded of another person whose influence has altered his view of himself within the Ootori family as well as his view of the world, in general. And as if summoned, he sees Tamaki's sad eyes from the morning's rejection, causing Kyoya to sigh aloud. _Really, Tamaki. How could say you don't know how I feel about you? Of course you don't! Guys don't discuss things like that. But you obviously do and got me to say things I never planned to say and do things I never planned to do, for that matter. It's been that way from the beginning and I let it happen because… _And in his mind he hears Tamaki finishing his sentence with Tamaki's wish "…because you love me, don't you?"

Kyoya removes his glasses and rubs his temples with his fingers. His feelings for the blond are complex, their friendship solid where one should not exist at all. _So why_ _did_ _I succumb? I suppose I do love him, but not in the way he hopes. I love Tamaki like the brother I wish I actually had instead of the ones that I do. Yet, knowing what I know now, Friday night was inevitable from his side of things, even if he wasn't aware of the Why of it, though I could have stopped him._

Glasses back on, the brunet watches the sidewalks filled with people from all walks of life, some of them Tokyo-ites, others tourists and yet others, foreigners. _So many people. I wonder how many of them are living false lives, unwilling to face the hard truths about themselves?_ He thinks of his family and all the deception, of his friends and their struggle to figure out their lives, and of himself in a position he never thought he'd find himself, but there he is. His focus becomes very sharp, then.

_This could end well or very badly with Haruhi, but I'm not going to apologize for living. I may be attracted to Tamaki, but that's all it is. Besides, he's my best friend and I want that to continue for as long as we can sustain it. Haruhi, on the other hand… she is something altogether different._

The Host King's puppy eyes spring to mind but this time, Kyoya merely chuffs to himself. _No more, Suoh. We'll make amends. But isn't it ironic that if you hadn't been exactly who you are, I wouldn't be on my way to meet Haruhi right now? To meet my girl. My - girl._ He allows the words to seep into his being, the pretty brunette infusing every molecule, slowly but surely pushing the dazzling blond into the friend zone forever. All at once, Kyoya feels very calm and he closes his eyes. _Resolution, at last. I love Tamaki as a friend, but I love Haruhi-_

His eyes snap open and a rush of adrenaline surges through his system, bolting him upright. He is, all at once, at a loss for words. Confused and suddenly elated for no logical reason, Kyoya reviews the past few days in his mind, a rapid-fire mix of conversations, images, feelings, thoughts and bodily reactions that leaves him breathless as he tries to compare his state of being with anything remotely familiar to him. He can't. He can't because it is something he has never experienced before.

Ootori Kyoya has fallen in love.

"Hotta-san! Pull over, please," he calls to his driver in a rather animated manner.

Tachibana turns his head to see Kyoya smiling, genuinely - smiling. "Young Master?" he asks, wondering if the young man is having a fit of some sort.

"Right here. Stop," Kyoya commands.

"But Kyoya-sama," Hotta says, a bit unsettled with the strange enthusiasm of his passenger, "this is a No Parking zone."

"Then let me off and circle around!" Kyoya's breathing has quickened and the burn in his stomach is gone. He feels fine. No, better than fine. He feels...elated.

"Of course," comes the brisk response and he parallels the curb where a sign reads, "No Parking, No Standing, No Loitering." Before Tachibana even has a chance to step out and open the door for Kyoya, the young Ootori has pushed it open and is exiting, striding with purpose towards an upscale shop.

His purchase made, they continue until they reach Fuyumi's building. Both the doorman and the security system recognize Kyoya and the trio rises to the appropriate floor. There, the brunet quickly doffs his coat and scarf and upon hearing that Fuyumi has not yet arrived, heads to the kitchen. He emerges and asks to speak with the nanny, eager to see his nephew whose toddler ways always amuse him and whose looks bear an uncanny likeness to Kyoya at the same age.

The nanny returns to the living room with Kenshin seated on her hip, a simple black kimono draped across her bent, opposite arm. Dressed in baby haute couture, the two-year old makes a happy sound upon seeing Kyoya, a small hand reaching towards him in greeting. His eyes are large, but the same taupe shade as his uncle's, his hair just as dark and fine, though less in quantity.

"Please don't get him too excited," the nanny cautions. "It's close to his bedtime."

Kyoya is sorely tempted to reply "Best time to be excited, don't you think?" but _that would be inappropriate. True, but inappropriate._ Instead he nods seriously while stifling a smile. "Of course," he replies, "but perhaps he needs to check the financial news before settling down?"

"I- I don't believe so, Ootori-sama." The nanny's perplexed expression only spurs Kyoya to more teasing.

"Then, perhaps a small snack? A pocky stick," he suggests knowing that the chocolate dipped cookie is the last thing _any_ child needs before slumber.

"Absolutely not!"

 _Well, that was certain._ Kyoya's endorphins are in high gear and the normally sober teen is not behaving in predictable ways. "Ah so. I can tell that you're a good nanny."

"Thank you," replies the off-kilter woman hoping that Shido-sama arrives home soon.

"Does Ken-bo have a favorite book?" he asks, actually wondering.

"Yes, but I read that to him."

"May I?"

"It wouldn't be the same and routine for children is important, especially at bedtime."

"And I'm certain you are correct, however, not all children are alike and their individual needs should be taken into consideration, wouldn't you agree?"

"Up to a point, Ootori-sama," the nanny informs, back on firm ground in her expertise. "I have established a definite pattern for your sister's son and she expects me to follow it."

"Clearly, she isn't home yet." His voice drops in volume and tenor. "You wouldn't be cruel and deny me." Pause. "Would you?" He's in host mode now and working his charm on the woman, who is nobly resisting.

"His mother will see him later, after he has been bathed, put into pajamas, has been read his story and is relaxed enough to sleep."

"Well then," comes the brisk response in a business-like voice, confusing the nanny once again. "I'm certain my sister won't mind if his uncle keeps him awake for just a little longer. I'll take him, now, please."

"Do you not wish to put on the kimono first?"

"For what purpose?"

"To protect your clothes. You usually do."

"Usually is not always. Try to remember that. My nephew, please."

With a reluctant sigh, the bewildered nanny shifts Kenshin into Kyoya's arms and the tot immediately reaches up with dimpled hands at his eyeglasses.

"That's enough of that, thank you," Kyoya chides and setting the boy on his feet, takes his eyewear off and hands it to the nanny. "Could you mind these, please, while I mind him?"

"Of course," the nanny agrees, a bit disgruntled but swayed by the smooth voice and handsome face of the young Ootori. "Can you see without them?"

"Well enough for our purposes," the brunet says before chasing after Kenshin, who is toddling away as quickly as his chubby legs will allow. Kyoya follows, then scoops him up, hoisting him aloft until the boy sits astride broad shoulders. Meanwhile, the child begins to chant, "Onbo, onbo, onnnbo."

"And so we go!" calls Kyoya as he piggy-backs his nephew around the large living room. Feeling lighter than he can remember, Kyoya makes several laps as voices grow louder heading down the corridor. It isn't until he's nearly upon the group of three people standing in the archway that he's aware of the nanny standing to one side, while Fuyumi and Haruhi watch him at play. Fuyumi is smiling and Haruhi?

Haruhi's mouth is slightly agape, her brown eyes wide in disbelief. Clearly, she is gobsmacked.

End - Chapter 41 - Who We Are

* * *

Who We Are \- Verses [Kyoya - centric]

VERSE 1  
Some call it perfection,  
But you know it's an empty word.  
See it in our reflection  
And you know we'll never learn.  
If the pride we know and love is burned,  
the air will clear again.  
We'll breathe the life we've earned.

BRIDGE  
I won't keep this hidden.  
It's just a sign I'm living.

CHORUS  
We can't escape from what we're made of;  
Can't turn away.  
Every mistake will leave a scar.  
But don't be afraid -  
Don't be afraid of the wrong moves we make.  
The wreckage makes us who we are.  
It's who we are.

VERSE 2  
A little sin defines us  
And you know it helps us to see.  
A little damage will find us  
And you know that it will set us free.  
A little spark inside us  
Can part the sea  
Between where we've been and  
Where we want to be.

BRIDGE & CHORUS (2x)

It's who we are.


	42. Breathing Underwater

_Kyoya?_

Haruhi's feelings have been tossed about so many times today, she marvels that anything can still surprise her. And yet, the sight of the young man of sharp mind and serious nature enjoying a romp with a toddler spurs not just surprise, but subtle delight and a quiet reassurance that her instincts about the Shadow King are on target.

She recovers, blinking a few times and closing her lips around a wry smile, her eyes never leaving his approaching figure, her heartbeat quickening despite her worries. _I can't be that wrong about him, but I can't let myself be swayed._ Though she is. She brushes stray bangs out of her eyes as if to see better, taking in every inch of the tall, dark and handsome young man whose impact in short space has left her emotions unsettled and her body craving. Peculiar on both counts for the usually apathetic girl.

_How do you do this to me? I should be rational about this, but a part of me just doesn't care. What's wrong with me?_

Stopping a few feet in front of her, Kyoya's smile of enjoyment turns to one of candid appreciation. Haruhi meets his eyes, adrenaline flooding her system in fight or flight mode. _This is what I wanted, isn't it? Isn't it?_ She glances away, but is unable to keep her eyes averted or keep the pleasure in seeing him at bay.

"I'm glad you're here," Kyoya says with a warmth that is both atypical and genuine.

"Me, too," she replies, unable to keep her breathing even and afraid her voice will betray her nerves.

The two adolescents stand quietly, simply looking at one another, allowing memory and emotion to reconnect them after being away from one another for what seems like an eternity for both.

Kenshin, meanwhile, is patting the top of Kyoya's head with both hands saying, "Oji-kyo, go. Oji-kyo, go."

"Ken-bo," Fuyumi scolds in a serious manner. "Stop hitting oji-chan. Perhaps it's time for Uba-san to give you your bath."

The patting stops and the boy gives his mother a stern look. "No bath. Kenbo and Oji-kyo are playing now." the boy informs as he lifts his arms, palms turned upwards. "You can't have him"

"Kenshin-chan," the nanny says in a firm voice, embarrassed by her young charge's refusal to comply. "I'm so sorry, Shido-sama," she says with an apologetic bow. "His uncle insisted on spending time with him despite my objections."

"It's alright, Uba-san," Fuyumi reassures, taking note of the way her brother is looking at Haruhi, his gaze unwavering in focus, his smile soft with affection. A glance at Haruhi reveals the same, her prior stress seemingly dissipated. "It's altogether wonderful, actually," she adds, understanding at once the dynamic between the adolescents.

"But, madam, his routine-"

"Can wait a bit. Family is important and," she pauses seeing in her son the image of her brother as a child, her maternal feelings spilling onto both males. "He's happy, don't you see?"

"Happiness is secondary to discipline in a child's life," comes the secure response.

Rather than argue, Fuyumi turns towards the woman and says, "Sora-san, you know I appreciate everything you do, but please remember that he is only two years old."

Kenshin is nodding his head emphatically, then holds up two fingers. "I'm two," he announces then leans forward, his head above Kyoya's, and drops his hands over Kyoya's eyes saying, "Peek-a-boo, I see you."

An unstoppable giggle erupts from Haruhi. Kyoya struggles to uncover his eyes from his nephew's vise-like grip while saying, "Do you find this amusing, Haruhi?"

"A bit," she replies, "I don't think I've ever imagined you to be so… so…"

"Playful?" he suggests, managing to at last get a grip on his nephew's impetuous hands.

"Child friendly," she corrects. "But I like it. I like it a lot, actually. I mean when Kirimi-chan came to visit, you weren't exactly thrilled."

The older dark-haired male lifts the younger from his shoulders and sets him on his feet between them, Kenshin wrapping an arm around Kyoya's leg.

"Nekozawa Kirimi was a bit of an otaku and much too knowledgeable about things a child shouldn't know."

Haruhi tips her head to one side. "And here I thought it was because she preferred Tamaki-senpai over you."

"Do I appear to be insecure?"

"Only on occasion," she teases and he gives her a "that so?" look.

So engrossed in their repartee are they that they fail to notice that Fuyumi, Sora and Kenshin are all paying close attention to their discourse. That is, until Kenshin lets go of Kyoya, toddles a few steps and then tugs on Haruhi's trousers instead, asking,"Who are you?"

Haruhi notices and immediately crouches down. Looking into the toddler's oddly familiar eyes that share shape, color and the same long, dark lashes of his kinsman, she says in a higher-pitched voice, "Hello. My name is Haruhi-san. I'm friends with your oji-san."

"Will you play with me, too?" the boy asks, eyes wide.

"Uh, sure," she responds. "If it's okay with your mom." She turns her face towards Fuyumi who is shaking her head and regarding her son knowingly.

"Only for a few minutes more, Ken-bo," Fuyumi agrees much to the nanny's disappointment.

"Forever!" the boy shouts.

"Five - minutes. And then you have to take your bath," she reiterates decisively.

"I don't think so," comes the sing-song response in a sweet but self-assured voice, tiny fists pressing on small hips.

"A bath is fun, don't you think?" Haruhi asks, noting the boy's stubborn surety. _Definitely an Ootori._

Kenshin looks at the girl at eye level and studies her before saying, "I want to play with oji-kyo," he informs. "Ask me can I play, too."

Haruhi casts a quick glance at Kyoya who is watching with interest. Her brows arch in question and Kyoya responds, "Ask him."

Haruhi soughs out a breath then reverts her attention. "Can I play, too?"

"Can you jump up and down? Watch me!" And the excited boy starts jumping in place with the energy only a toddler can exhibit just before bedtime. And then Haruhi's giggles turn into soft laughter - at the antics, at the strangeness of the entire day leading to being a guest in someone's penthouse and once more close to the person she's wanted to be with all day, alone. Her amusement, however, only spurs Kenshin on. He stops and stands still for only a moment before announcing, "Time for exercise!" then starts running in place on the tips of his toes, arms swiveling side to side in a manic demonstration.

Haruhi stands. "Maybe he should do as he's told?" she queries, composing herself. "It's probably not a good idea to get him going like this."

Kenshin stops and projects his arms, palms angled towards Haruhi. His words are slow to be sure Haruhi understands. "You're talking to him. But he's playing with me. You," he continues, swinging one arm in an arc towards the sofa, "can go over there."

Kyoya looks over the tops of his glasses at his sister. "Fuyumi?"

"Alright, Ken-bo. That's enough," Fuyumi says, picking up her son who, upon being caught in unknown arms at first, whines and twists about. Recognizing his mother, he stops and throws his arms around her neck. "Mama," he says in a two-note cadence hugging her tightly as Fuyumi nuzzles his neck.

Haruhi watches with wistful eyes. _Is this what it was like with Mom when I was little? I can't remember, but I'm sure it was._ She glances at Kyoya and sees an unfamiliar look on his face, one she can't place though it's sincere and touches her heart.

Fuyumi pulls back and tells her son, "You're being rude to Haruhi-san. Apologize right now." Kenshin drops his chin and grabs his mother's cheeks, shaking his head back and forth. "Oh yes," Fuyumi corrects, nodding in return. "She is a guest in our home. Do you understand?" A pause ensues and then an emphatic head nod gives answer. Fuyumi steps towards Haruhi, angling the toddler to face her. "Go ahead," she prompts.

Kenshin looks at his mother, his uncle and then Haruhi. In the face of three serious expressions, he whispers, "Gomen."

"I don't think she heard you," Fuyumi says. "Say again, please."

The boy gestures for Haruhi to come closer and she complies. He leans in and nodding with each word says, "I…said…gomen na." Haruhi nods in acceptance and then hears the little voice add, "You are pretty."

She takes a step back and smiles. _Flattery at his age? Guess being a host runs in the family._ "Domo. It was nice to meet you, Kenshin-chan. And you, Uba-san."

"You also," the nanny replies with a short bow and this time, Haruhi keeps her return bow deliberately equal. "Good evening to you both."

"It will be now," Kyoya says, looking at Haruhi.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Fuyumi tells them. "Kyoya, why don't you show Haruhi the view from the terrace? Hiroshi should be home soon and dinner ready."

"Of course," he replies and Haruhi watches his conservative mask resettle on fine features. _This is who he is. Always guarded but for rare moments._

She turns to watch Fuyumi mount a set of stairs at the back of the room. _Two floors in an apartment? I didn't even know such places existed._ Haruhi takes in the beauty of the Great Room they're in, a room larger than her entire apartment. In the past, such opulence would be met with a "damned rich people" comment, but Fuyumi's words in the taxi have impressed upon the girl an idea she's always suspected but never acknowleged in her naiveté. _Reality is relative._ Imagining Fuyumi or Kyoya or any of her Ouran classmates living as  she does is doable from a certain point of view and _yet, why should they if their families can give them more. Wouldn't I, if I had the means to give my child the best that I could? Without the snobbery, of course._

Her thoughts are interrupted by an arm settling around her back. Without her blazer, Kyoya's warmth seeps into her, his proximity and touch welcome. She's tempted to simply turn and put her arms around him but refrains, suddenly shy and awkward. Kyoya has no misgivings and the moment his sister and the nanny are out of sight, he pulls the girl closer to himself and leans his head towards Haruhi's.

"Du bist wunderschön," he murmurs near her ear. [You are very pretty.]

She doesn't know what it means, but hearing German in the velvet voice against her ear is both startling and thrilling and she leans back without thinking, his hand skating down her arm, then drawing both his and hers against her middle in a soft embrace.

She looks up at her captor from an angle. "Kyoya, you know I don't speak German."

"I could tutor you. In multiple subjects."

"I think I've got schoolwork covered, but I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm especially good at anatomy."

"Kyo-ya!" she chides without anger. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"You're the one not wearing your blazer. Is that intentional to tease me? You do have a habit of making white shirts look particularly appealing, you know."

"Do I?"

"Absolutely. By the way, where is your blazer?"

"Umm," she pauses. "I seem to have left it at school after cosplay."

His brow knits. "I thought Tamaki cancelled that."

"No. He was as melodramatic as ever enjoying his role as Phantom of the Opera."

"Ah, the Victorian theme. That would suit his mindset today."

"Why's that?" she queries, curiosity raised.

"Nothing," he replies with a wave of his free hand. "Forget I said it, though I'm sorry I missed it."

"Who were you supposed to be?"

"Tom Brown from Tom Brown's Schooldays complete with Victorian cricket outfit."

"I was Fortunato from Poe's 'Cask of the Amontillado.' "

"I remember suggesting that."

"You did?"

"I do make suggestions, if you recall."

"Like the photo book on Bali?"

"Precisely. A subtle hint backed up by direct suggestion is often a most effective means of persuasion."

"Has he ever persuaded you?" she asks, her thoughts veering from cosplay to the distressing words of the twins. _Careful, now._

"Enlisting my help in creating the Host Club would, I imagine, count as persuasion, among other things."

"Oh," Haruhi says in a somewhat worried voice.

"What is it?" asks the ever-observant Ootori.

"Kyoya…"

"Yes?"

She turns to face him then, placing her palms against his chest and looking up into his face. "We need to talk."

His hands leave her then and two fingers push up his glasses as he assesses her words. "Isn't that what girls say to their boyfriends when something is amiss? Have I transgressed again so soon?"

 _What can I say? And how to say it?_ "No. I mean, I don't think so, but maybe. I don't know."

His expression grows concerned. "Haruhi, it isn't like you to be equivocal. Did something happen today?"

Her eyes search his and no trace of deception therein lies, only genuine interest and something else, something that wasn't there last night, last week, or in any of her dealings with the Shadow King to date. Before she can answer, Kyoya is taking off his own blazer and settling it around Haruhi's shoulders, the larger size enveloping her. His body heat, suffused into the cashmere, feels like an embrace and all at once, she wants the real deal. _The twins must be wrong in some way.  
_

"Thanks," she says, feeling less off kilter and more inclined to address the pressing issue at a more opportune time. He observes her, as if deciphering her words and behavior. _I need to set this aside, for now._ She looks up at him from lowered eyes. _If this is going to end, I at least want tonight._

Kyoya says nothing but she recognizes the subtle arch of brow that tells her he's aware that something is going on with her, but will wait until she reveals herself. Meanwhile, he says, "My sister mentioned the terrace. It's truly a spectacular view. May I show it to you?"

She nods, once more aware of her unique surroundings and relinquishing her need to solve her very unique problem that very minute. "I'd like that, but what about you? It's cold outside."

"Is it? It didn't feel that way when I was out earlier. I'm fine."

"No. You'll get sick and I don't want that happening again. You really worried me last night."

"Do you care that much?"

Her chin lifts. "Of course I care. You're my friend and my-" She pauses, uncertain of how to categorize their relationship at this point in time.

"Your…what? How do you think of me, Haruhi?"

But she misses the first word and answers in a rush, "I think about you all the time. I missed you all day today. And now I'm being foolish, the last thing I ever want to be when I'm with you." _Argh, I'm such a dolt at this dating stuff. If we last a week as a couple, I'll be surprised._

She removes the blazer and hands it back to Kyoya who redons it without a word. Moving past the seating area, he gestures for Haruhi to follow. As he passes a plush armchair, he lifts an aubergine throw from its back and continues onward. Haruhi follows him around a short corner and sees the entry onto the terrace through a heavy glass door.

And then the corridor light is switched off and she's being pulled against Kyoya and turned gently, pressed up against the wall. In the shadowed light, Haruhi looks up, her breathing irregular. Kyoya's face above hers is familiar in some ways, yet still a stranger in others. His pupils are slightly dilated, his focus set on her and she's caught between time and space in their shaded depths, aware of only the way it feels to be held by him once more.

Memory and anticipation combine, igniting small tremors throughout her body. Kyoya senses it and murmurs, "You remember me, don't you?"

"Uh-huh," she breathes.

"Then you know that whatever troubles you, I'll take care of it."

And despite her mixed emotions, she finds her voice. "I don't need you to take care of it. I don't need you to take care of me," she reminds.

A smile twitches at one corner of his mouth. "Ohne dich kann ich nicht leben." [I can't live without you.]

"Kyoya," she complains. "What's with the German?"

"Du bist mein Schatz," [You're my treasure] he says, placing a small kiss on her lips; then, without pulling away, murmurs, "Mein Leibling…" [My sweet] Two kisses, each one soft and lingering. "Mein-"

"Oh, be quiet," she chastises, before pulling him closer by his lapels and then his lower lip between hers, silencing him without resistance. Their lips take one another's with a langorous sweetness that demolishes her thought processes and floods her system with endorphin-laden heat. Her arms wrap around his waist and she stands on tiptoe to better reach him and match his ardor. _This is what I want. This is who I want._

"Haruhi," he says as they separate for breath. "I think about you all the time, too. I can't get you out of my head."

"Me, either," she says, her usually agile mind at a loss for words in the rush of feeling she experiences as his words mirror her feelings and she lifts her face to kiss and be kissed once again. Willingly, she parts her lips to taste him more fully, savoring the slide of his tongue against hers, the secure strength of his arms about her and the way her heart is pounding in her chest.

Her practical nature warns, _Should stop…Not here,_ but the rational part of her brain is being pummeled by emotional overload, the thought of losing Kyoya now something she can't even consider. When at last they part, needing air, needing space, their bodies cling to one another's as Kyoya's lips linger against her brow.

"I thought," she says sotto voce, once her breathing allows for speech, "you were going to show me the view from the terrace."

"Hm. I was… but I like the view from here much better. Don't you?"

"Yes, but I've never been in a penthouse before. You wouldn't let Tamaki-senpai show us the penthouse at the Roi Grand, remember?"

Kyoya lifts his head at that, as if recollecting their date. "I remember," he says, but his mood has unaccountably shifted and the passionate suitor recovers himself. "Here," he says, picking up the throw from where he'd allowed it drop. "Put this around yourself." He flutters the small blanket open and wraps it around the petite brunette who notices, for the first time, the material.

"Is this real fur?" she asks, running her hands through the thick softness that covers her arms.

"Mink, I believe. My sister is crazy about fur - any kind, on any thing."

"I thought fur was just for clothing; and it's purple!"

"Dyed, of course. But you, Haruhi," Kyoya says, arranging the item around her so that it appears to be a stole, "deserve nothing less than sable."

"I don't even know what that is but it sounds expensive."

"You don't say," he retorts, then gives her a wink and a full smile before pushing open the terrace door and escorting her into the night.

END - Chapter 42 - Breathing Underwater

* * *

Breathing Underwater by Marie Digby [Haruhi - centric]

There's a light in the dark  
Where the sky splits apart,  
Where the stars find a way  
To shine through all the spaces in between.  
Here we are face to face  
All alone in this place,  
And the night is finally coming down to you and me.

Tell me where you've been hiding.  
Oh, I want to know.  
You're my silver lining covered in gold.  
Tell me what am I feeling?  
Well it's hard to explain -  
Like underwater breathing,  
Swimming in rain.

CHORUS  
Oh oh... All I really want to do (do)  
Is fall a little deeper with you (you)  
And never come up.  
Breathing, breathing underwater.  
Weightless with every little kiss you steal, boy.  
You are making me feel (feel) like I'm breathing,  
Breathing, breathing underwater.

I want to fly through the blue.  
Lay on the bottom with you.  
Get lost in the waves.  
Let the world slip away.

When nobody can find us,  
I don't want to be saved.  
Leave it all behind us,  
Make an escape.  
Tell me what am I feeling?  
Ohhh, it's hard to explain -  
Like underwater breathing,  
Swimming in rain.

CHORUS

Want to go to the edge.  
Want to dive in again.  
Here we are face to face,  
All alone in this place  
And it's finally coming down to you and me.

CHORUS (2x)

Breathing underwater (2x)


	43. Dare You to Move

… _"You love him, don't you?"..._

The sun has set on more than just the horizon; it has plunged Tamaki into a unique darkness. The fair-haired prince of the Ouran High School Host Club is lost anew, uncertain of his place in the world, just as he was when he first arrived in Japan.

_What do I do now?_

The prep room is lit only by the sconces that adorn the trompe l'oiel paneled walls and with the loss of daylight, shadows fill the room. When an answer is less than forthcoming, Mori rises and crosses to the sink area. Tamaki hears the chink of porcelain, but doesn't pay much attention until the tall host returns, setting a narrow, black lacquered tray bearing two traditional tea cups on the low table in front of the sofa.

The aroma of the brew seems to revive his kohai and Tamaki lifts his head, staring at the steaming liquid in the cups they no longer use at club. _Ever since Kyoya decided that handled cups would hold greater appeal for our guests. He was right, as usual, but these are more Japanese and this is Japan, after all. I like these better though Kyoya's and my special mugs are my favorites._

He pauses his runaway train of thought, looking up at the usually stern face of the 3rd-year, surprised to see a look of concern there. "Thank you, Mori-senpai," he says for both things before lifting the cup and tasting the beverage.

Without a word, Mori settles on the sofa - doing nothing, saying nothing. "It's just us, Tamaki. You can call me Mori or Takashi, if you like. We're friends after all."

"Uh, yeah. I suppose we are. I mean, of course we are." _Friends, though we rarely converse. Maybe that should change._

"Listen, if you don't want to talk about it, we won't. It's up to you, but I've been told I'm a good listener." And then he grows silent again, seemingly comfortable with the silence that leaves Tamaki edgy and uncomfortable seeking words that will fill the air with something, anything to distract him from the sadness he's feeling. But Mori just sits, imbibing, a serene expression on his face as if nothing in the world could move him from being where he is right now because it's exactly where he wants to be.

It's a sight Tamaki is accustomed to seeing during club hours when Mori and Honey are entertaining guests, the comparable adoration of both young men by their guests evident, despite their often differing approaches to things. Now, he takes note of the way Mori's lack of conversation and simple stillness have a grounding effect. _It's different than Kyoya's stillness, which always seems temporary while his mind continues to whirr. It's as if everything is fine, even if it's not right now, but will be - guaranteed._ And for the first time that day, the tension in his mind and body eases.

"Takashi," Tamaki says, trying out the name he's never dared use for fear of insulting the older host.

"Hm?"

Tamaki sets his cup down, then straightens and turns at the waist. _Here goes nothing._ "Why are you here?" he asks.

"Should I be elsewhere?"

"You usually go home with Honey-senpai."

"We're not joined at the hip, you know."

Color rises into the blond's cheeks. "I know that. It's just that-" he pauses. _Why shouldn't he be here? Mori-um-Takashi is his own person. He can go as he pleases and do as he pleases. And Honey-senpai seemed okay with it, too._

Mori states, "I just figured you'd be better off not being alone right now."

"Oh."

Mori sets his empty cup on the tray, daubs his lips with a fine linen napkin, then pushes back into the sofa's corner, an arm splayed along the back as he loosens his tie with the other. "How long would you say we know each other?"

Tamaki is puzzled at the unexpected question. "Almost two years now; since the club began."

"And how well do you think you know each of us?"

Violet eyes widen just a little. "I think I know each of you somewhat well. Maybe not every detail, but that's okay. I respect the privacy of my friends."

"So you accept things at face value, making assumptions about us."

"Not assumptions," the blond retorts, somewhat miffed at what feels like an accusation. "I mean, I don't think I do." He looks away, then back. Mori's face remain impassive. "Do I?"

"Let me ask you this: do you think any of us made assumptions about you when we met you?"

"I suppose."

"Such as?"

Back on solid ground, Tamaki slides into his persona with a slow blink and a knowing smile. "That I'm handsome, popular, charming and an excellent student. You know," he adds with a wave of his hand. "The usual things people say about me." He breathes a bit more comfortably.

"And yet there was, and is, more to you than just those words."

"Such as?" the blond counters.

"How about - gay?" Tamaki nearly flinches at the word, then drops his eyes. "I'm sorry," Mori gently replies. "I don't mean it as an indictment."

"I know," Tamaki says without looking up. "I just reacted that way."

"I thought you were okay with it. I am, Mitsukuni is and so are the twins, apparently. And for the record," he adds in a darker tone, "I'm annoyed with what Hikaru and Kaoru did today, but maybe it led to what happened and that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"No? I'm not sure."

"So tell me."

Tamaki looks at his senpai, still dubious about his revelation. "Tell you what? How I feel about Kyoya?"

"If you like. What I mean is, are you okay with coming out?"

 _Coming out?_ Puzzlement is clear on the blond's face as he queries, "What does being a débutante have to do with being gay?" Tamaki notes disbelief on the face of the steady young man who drops his head for a few moments, then raises it, mild amusement obvious.

"You don't know the term 'coming out'"? Mori asks, managing to keep his initial reaction tucked away.

"I know the term." Feeling less in control, the blond is irked.

"Good, because even you can't be that clueless."

"Well, Takashi, maybe I am. Explain it to me."

Mori leans towards the blond who reciprocates, as if they're about to share a secret, except Mori's delivery is straightforward. "It means letting people know your sexual orientation, as you see it."

"Everyone?" The blond's voice is hushed as he considers the ramifications.

Mori pulls back. "That's up to you. It's personal, so who you tell, what you tell them and how you tell them is your call. Do you regret telling us?"

The blond lifts his chin. "No! I wouldn't have said it if I didn't trust you and I'm glad that I did." But insecurity rears its head again and in a demure voice he adds, "I'm just not sure if I want everyone else to know…yet."

"That's fine. There aren't any rules about it."

"But that's not true, is it?" comes a rather impassioned response. A troubled crinkle appears between Tamaki's brows, which he immediately rubs away with two fingers, then fluffs his bangs.

Mori tips his head to one side. "What do you mean?"

Tamaki's back stiffens. "I mean that this is Japan. Anything different than the norm is practically a crime here. So I'd say that being homosexual isn't going to go over very well."

"Then what will you do?" Mori asks, completely calm. "Hide the fact? Marry a nice girl and live a lie? You could, you know. If anybody could, you could."

"I do want children."

"Then have them. You have all the requisite attributes of a highly eligible bachelor in Japan, with one difference."

"I'm not straight?"

"No," Mori chuckles. "You're French."

"Half. And what's that got to do with it?" _Argh. There's still so much I don't know about Japanese social etiquette._

"European boys are raised differently than Japanese boys."

"Are they?"

"You know this, Tamaki, so don't pretend you don't know what I mean."

"Oh...fine!" the blond admits gruffly, leaning into his corner of the sofa with a pouty face and crossing his arms. "I do know that, but even back home there was a difference between me and the other boys."

Mori understands the mixed messages Tamaki is sending, though whether they're spawned of confusion, fatigue or misgivings, he isn't sure. Not that it matters. He's just glad that the blond is hearing him. "In some of your activity choices, maybe," he says. "In how you felt about things because of your hafu status, maybe. But you weren't really raised any differently than they were, were you?"

"No," comes the considered reply. "I just did what I thought was right."

"That's my point. In Europe, what's right is different than here in Japan. There, being different is better tolerated, schoolyard bullies aside." He pauses, then adds, "You know that if I'd been there, I would have set those boys straight." Tamaki quirks an eyebrow. "No pun intended. But in France, you still had more latitude to be who you wanted to be than most boys here, who are expected to practice familial piety and obey their parents' rules with utmost obedience, even into young adulthood. Some do more than others, but all do it one way or another."

"Honey-senpai doesn't."

"And he pays a price for that." Tamaki nods, knowing it to be true.

"What about you? Is your dad strict?"

Mori thinks, then says, "Strict enough, but we have a good relationship and I admire him. All that I am, I owe to his daily guidance."

"My dad didn't live with me when I was little and still doesn't, even now."

"Do you get along with him?"

"Yes! He's like my best buddy in the whole world, next to Kyoya." Tamaki's affection for Yuzuru Suoh is clear. "He takes care of so many people and does so many incredible things. I don't know if I'll ever be able to handle life the way he does. And I know he's taking care of Maman the best way that he can."

"He seems a good person. Does he know? About you?"

"I don't think so, but I think it'll be okay. I know Maman will be fine with it. I just wish…" Mori waits, patient in allowing Tamaki to find his thoughts and his words. "I wish I could ask her advice. I could use a little right now."

"I may not be much older than you, but I'm here."

 _What the hell. He isn't going to betray my confidence to anyone except, maybe, Honey-senpai and they're both on my side._ "You mean like the family neighbor?"

"I mean like a good friend and I won't tell anyone if you ask me not to, not even Mitsukuni."

"But I thought you guys share everything."

Mori chuffs deep in his chest then and shakes his head. "Do you and Kyoya share everything?"

"We know one another pretty well and we trust one another." Tamaki looks away. "At least, he used to trust me. I don't know anymore. We've had some pretty intense times together."

"But you're still you and he's still him, right?"

"Seems to be the case because I'm gay and he's not."

"And you know this…how?"

"Because he's with Haruhi."

"So you love Kyoya but he can't reciprocate the feeling, is that it?"

Tamaki heaves a deep sigh, eyes still averted. "I thought, maybe we had a chance."

"And that's what the twins heard?"

"I pushed Kyoya too hard this morning. I should've known better, but I can't say I regret trying."

"No, and neither can I."

"He's just not interes-" Tamaki freezes in place. "What did you say?"

"I said that I don't regret trying to let the person I love know how I feel."

Tamaki's face is one of stunned surprise as he looks to his left. "You don't mean…?" And he stops breathing for a few seconds.

"Haninozuka Mitsukuni. My cousin, my best friend and my first head-over-heels love," comes the answer.

Tamaki's breath releases. "And he knows this?"

"Of course he knows. Oh, it was a few years ago that we finally confronted the subject. But he likes girls and only girls. I love only him."

"So you're..." Takashi nods his head, just once. "But you're so athletic."

The emphasis on Tamaki's last word causes Mori to actually laugh, his mouth closed as his chest resonates a deep mirth bringing a smile back to Tamaki's face.

"Yeah, so what? Is there something written somewhere that says homosexuals can't be athletic?"

Tamaki extends an open hand. "I don't mean to insinuate anything."

"Yeah, I know," Mori nods. "But now that you're aware, you're going to notice all sorts of things that don't fit the stereotype of being homosexual. In fact, you'd be surprised how many of us are on campus. Males and females.

"Really?" Tamaki's surprise is only matched by his sense of relief.

"At least nowadays you can decide for yourself how you identify and how you express it - up to a point."

"I do?"

Mori is suddenly in teaching mode. "Listen. This is Japan, but things are changing. Years ago, if you knew you were queer, you didn't acknowledge it, you didn't talk about it, you certainly didn't act on it. You just went along and did what your family and society expected."

"Will you?"

"My parents know I'm gay and they've accepted it, finally. Satoshi is fine with it, too, great kid that he is. The point is that it's taken me awhile to learn how to live with loving someone who can't love you back the way you want them to."

"Like Honey-senpai?"

"Yeah, like him. Like Kyoya and you, I presume."

"But we-" And he stops himself and looks down. _What Kyoya and I did is just between us, like I promised. I owe him that._ "Does it make you sad?"

"Being gay or not being with Mitsukuni?"

"Either."

"It used to. But I figure our friendship, our history and our family bonds are more important. I won't jeopardize that. I'm sure I'll meet someone else, some day, who _will_ be able to share a life, but that's probably not going to happen for a long time."

Tamaki looks back at the host so many girls adore, never realizing that none of them has any chance whatsoever at winning his heart. "Won't it bother you to see him with someone else?"

"Why should it? I love him and want him to be happy, even if that means seeing him happy with someone else. I'll still be a part of his life and he'll be a part of mine. That's what loving someone means to me. You have to decide for yourself what it means to you, Tamaki, and if your friendship with Kyoya can withstand this test of trust."

"A test of trust," the blond murmurs to himself. _Is that what this is, after all that's happened?_

They each ponder their conversation in their own way. Finally, Tamaki asks, "What do you think I should do about Haruhi? She must think Kyoya and I are a couple, or something like that. And we're so not. But if she thinks we are and Kyoya doesn't come clean about it, she'll think he's hiding it and then she won't trust him.

"It could ruin everything," Mori agrees.

Worry that Tamaki can't rub away washes over his body. "It will ruin everything - for them, for the club, for our friendships. Everything. Mori-senpai? Takashi? What should I do?" His last question is rhetorical, high-pitched and loud. Tamaki stands and begins wandering around the salon in a staggered funk.

Mori allows it as he considers the question. Finally, he stands and heads over to where the blond slouches against the wall, bangs flopping into his eyes which are blank and lifeless.

"Tamaki," he calls softly, then again a bit louder. "Are you okay?"

The blond slowly turns his head, blinking several times, his eyes regaining depth and color as they focus on the eyes of his schoolmate. Concern he expects, but Mori is watching him with an unnerving intensity Tamaki has only seen a few times in the brunet. But as the seconds pass, a subtle softening of features occurs and he recognizes the protective gaze usually reserved for Honey-senpai fixed on him.

The protective nature of the Morinozuka clan is something Tamaki understands as it pertains to the Haninozukas. Only now does he realize that Mori is protective of much more than that. The Stoic Type is stoic for a reason - ever on guard, ever alert to anything or anyone that would hurt those about whom he cares. And that includes himself. Seeing that genuine concern for him, specifically and completely, moves him in a way he isn't expecting and his tears of drama turn to tears of acknowledgement. _Kyoya isn't mine and never will be, not the way I want it to be. And now, no matter what anybody says, things won't ever be quite the same._

The tears that blur his vision overflow, turning into wavy rivulets that cascade down his cheeks. The image of a blond boy crying reaches deep into Mori's psyche, triggering a nearly autonomic response. Stepping in, he takes the nominally shorter boy in an embrace, holding him close against him. And within that bulwark of acceptance without expectation, Tamaki allows himself respite from the strain of the day as he relaxes into the support of strong arms, one arm wrapped around Mori's waist while the other covers his eyes.

Mori lay his cheek against the pale blond locks, not so different in color or softness than those of the one for whom he holds deep feeling, imagining what it might be like if Mitsukuni were of a height similar to Tamaki. What it might be like to hold him just so and see him lift his face as Tamaki is doing, resting it against Mori's shoulder as he looks up with a soft gaze in his eyes.

"I'm not him," Mori murmurs.

"I know. I'm not Mitsukuni."

"I know," comes a whisper.

They hold one another's eyes, unasked questions and unspoken secret longings held therein as their eyes drift closed and their lips come together softly, reverently, as if a sacred ceremony is taking place in this moment of unrequited need and simple exploration of predilection. Neither one is who the other wishes them to be, but it is enough just to imagine, if only for a few moments, what might have been. Their kiss is chaste compared to those Tamaki shared with Kyoya in the limo, the heat they generated still resonating in Tamaki's dreams and loins, but Mori doesn't incite the same reaction and Tamaki is glad of that.

He pulls back his face and Mori releases him, reiterating, "Are you okay?" with multiple meanings.

Tamaki steps back but leaves his hand on Mori's waist. "I will be. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening and accepting and not asking for anything more."

Mori's eyes hold a softness Tamaki has never seen in them before. "I'm attracted to you, Tamaki, but I don't love you."

"I know that."

"Though I did join Host Club to see if that attraction would go anywhere."

"Huh?" The blond's eyes open fully and he's taken aback by the Mori he's just beginning to know better.

"It's true. Mitsukuni asked me what he should do and I told him he should do what he wanted to do. I decided to do the same."

Tamaki removes his hand entirely and further retreats. "What just happened…it didn't mean anything except, except…"

"A test of trust?"

The blond's mouth parts for a moment, then closes. "A very simple one."

"I'm sure," Mori replies and Tamaki knows that his senpai has already surmised that his interaction with Kyoya was a bit more involved.

Tamaki leans his back against the wall as Mori leans in his shoulder nearby. "Did you think I was…gay…from the beginning?" the curious blond wants to know, watching the brunet from the sides of his eyes.

"No. Sometimes I can tell and sometimes I can't. Anyway, it didn't matter. My decision was about figuring out who I am and how to make my way in the world knowing that. It wasn't much about you at all."

Tamaki's pride and vanity is stung, but he hides it by looking straight ahead. "And do you know now?"

"Nobody figures that out completely, Tamaki. Ever. We form bonds with people for various reasons." Mori shrugs. "I was just wondering if we might have a bond in a particular way."

"Do we?"

"Yes, before today and after."

Mori suddenly straightens and heads to the cabinet where his duffle hangs and puts it on, leaving it un-toggled as he always does, his scarf hanging limp around his neck as he shoves his bookbag under his arm and closes the ornately carved cabinet door of one of Ouran's hand-crafted lockers.

Tamaki watches for a bit, then does likewise. As he carefully arranges his own scarf into a pleasing style, he turns to Mori who stands several feet down the row, waiting for Tamaki's full attention before speaking.

"It's not an easy thing to be different in a conformist society, as you yourself said earlier. And depending on what you want out of life, you have choices to make. At least now you can make them knowing yourself a little better than you did before. What matters most is that you accept yourself, as you are."

"What about Haruhi?"

"You'll figure out what to do. You're a smart guy, even if you are a little scatter-brained."

"Me? Scatter-brained?" Mori just gives him a look and Tamaki relents. "You're right. That's why Kyoya is good for me. But I get that all we'll ever be is friends. I can't say that I like it, but I get it."

Mori nods. "Then you're already on your way to your solution."

Tamaki regards the brunet for several seconds before saying, "You know, Morinozuka Takashi, for a quiet guy you sure have a lot of wise words."

And in typical Mori fashion, the older host says nothing as he strides past the younger, bumping him into the locker with a gentle shove of his shoulder.

"Heeyyy!" Tamaki complains, but smiles as he follows after his well-respected senpai who, unknown to Tamaki, is doing exactly the same.

End - Chapter 42 - Dare You to Move

* * *

Dare You to Move by Switchfoot [Mori-centric]

Welcome to the planet.  
Welcome to existence.  
Everyone's here. (2x)  
Everybody's watching you now.  
Everybody waits for you now.  
What happens next? (2x)

CHORUS  
I dare you to move. (2x)  
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.  
I dare you to move. (2x)  
Like today never happened;  
Today never happened before.

Welcome to the fallout.  
Welcome to resistance.  
The tension is here (2x)  
Between who you are and who you could be.  
Between how it is and how it should be. Yeah.

CHORUS

Maybe redemption has stories to tell.  
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell.  
Where can you run to escape from yourself?  
Where you gonna go? (2x)  
Salvation is here.

CHORUS


	44. Under the Influence

Heat is sealed indoors as the door to the penthouse hisses shut, leaving Kyoya and Haruhi to the season's elements. The brisk air doesn't seem to phase either teen, their entwined hands somehow generating sufficient warmth against winter's chill. Kyoya guides Haruhi across the slate floor and through an evergreen arbor, the dark greenery still spotted with crusted snow but for large melting patches where powerful outdoor heaters raise the temperature of the area to just tolerable.

They emerge on the other side where the only illumination comes from a million points of engineered light below them and a million points of starlight above. Haruhi drops Kyoya's hand, drawn to the stone wall that encompasses the space to absorb the sight of their sprawling city below. The scenery is, indeed, spectacular with the Tokyo Tower pointing skyward, glowing red-orange and seemingly close enough to touch.

It's similar to the view at Lotus but unlike then, Haruhi's sight is unobstructed by heavy glass and other people. Here, everything seems clearer, the ice particles in the air defining and clarifying everything with an ethereal light. She steps up onto the tall, wide curb at the wall's base and leans head and shoulders over the rounded coping, one hand clutching the fur while the other grasps the top of the wall to steady herself. Glancing down, she spies cars moving and pedestrians walking in pint-sized versions of themselves among the blue-white lights that seem to embrace every tree branch and trunk on both sides of the street.

"Nice," she says and she hears Kyoya's quiet chuckle behind her. "What?" she queries looking back over her shoulder to find him close by, considering her. With the moon rising before them, his face is bathed in sylvan light and his dark locks shine.

"Just nice? It seems you're not easily impressed, are you?" he asks, amused.

"Not true," she defends with a small shake of her head. "You do."

"Do I?" he asks, moving behind her to wrap his arms about her waist and draw her close as they lean into one another's warmth, their difference in height neglible.

Haruhi looks out over the city once more. "You always have, though you did scare me, at first. But then I figured you must have a reason for being the Snark of the Ouran Host Club."

His embrace loosens. "I have been called many things, but snark is not one I've heard before."

"Weren't you the one who suggested the Wonderland theme to Tamaki? Or Lewis Carroll."

"I did and I am, of course, familiar with the author and his works. Are you suggesting that I share the characteristics of the imaginary beast you say resembles me?"

"Well," Haruhi says, taking pleasure in the way it feels to settle into his embrace while teasing him simultaneously, something she would never have done even a few days ago. _How things change_. "You do like to sleep late," she says, quickly appending, "Or so I've heard."

"Want to find out?" he coos in her ear, raising goosebumps along her arms.

"Maybe," she drawls, smiling, then biting her lip. _Yes_. His arms tighten around her. "Eventually," she confirms to him.

"When?

She rests an arm along his, her hand covering his. "Someone I trust told me that I'll know when it's right for me."

"You won't mind if I try to persuade you, will you?

"Could I stop you?"

"Yes, but only temporarily. I tend to go after what I want."

"As do I," she challenges, refusing to let him win her over easily.

"So who gave you this sage advice? Not Ryoji-san who, I'm sure, would love to keep you his little girl, in every way, forever."

"What does it matter? It makes sense. And Dad is just being a dad. It's his job to be protective."

"Then I'm glad he seems to approve of me, though I'm sure he doesn't like you being alone with me."

"I approve of you and that's what matters." He kisses her cheek. "I'm alone with you because it's where I choose to be." At her jaw and her pulse quickens. "I hug you because I want to hug you...Kyoya," she breathes. Just behind her earlobe as his right hand slips beneath the fur and upwards along her torso, over her shirt. Her cheeks grow warm and her breath quickens. "I kiss you because...I want to."

"Is this right for you?" he murmurs, his hand covering her left breast.

An intake of breath. "Yes," she exhales, both thrilled and embarrassed about the fact that her nipples are erect and she's certain he knows it.

"And this?" he inquires as nimble fingers slowly unbutton several more buttons of her shirt, without resistance. Instead, she leans back against his chest, nervous but wanting more of his touch. Their breath is vapor and she's certain so are their bodies, and hers is beginning to tremble.

"S'ok," he reassures, his fingers sliding under her cami-bra until his hand covers her bare breast. "You're perfect," he says.

"No, I'm not," she breathes, feeling dizzy, unaccustomed to seduction and not knowing how to behave. "I'm too much like a boy."

"Not - at - all," he confirms, kneading the flesh beneath his palm. Her forehead leans into his cheek. Even in the cold night air, his scent is provocative and her inhibitions are loosening as her body responds to him. She senses his lips moving, wants them on hers. "So, what else about me reminds you of this dangerous creature you mentioned?"

 _Ev-ery-thing._ Still, her foggy faculties recognize a mental challenge and she rises to meet it, her recall of Wonderland poetry committed to memory simply because she likes it. "You're ambitious and rather serious," she says.

"These are hardly negative qualities," he says while his thumb and a curled index finger caress her nipple with minimal pressure.

"Oh," she sighs, eyes closing as a flare of pleasure tingles her skin and tightens the muscles of her core. The cold air feels mild against her skin. He shifts his head and his shortened breath is hot in her ear as the tip of his tongue laves the inner curve. "Unless," she continues, gently panting, "you use them to hurt others." A whimper comes from the back of her throat as he pays attention to her breast's twin, repeating his caress. She's trying and failing to stay in control of herself but her body is in charge and she surrenders to sensation.

"I have no compunction about utilizing my expertise in business or other competitive arenas," he tosses off. _As if we're chatting over lunch instead of making-out on a penthouse terrace._ She's reminded of another time and place.

"I learned that the day we met at the mall," she says in a dreamy fashion. "Though your rudeness to those girls surprised me."

His memory is as good, if not better, than her own. " _I'm_ surprised you didn't realize the reason why."

"What do you mean?" she replies, brow knitting, clutching the stole with her right hand as the other rises to cover his, stopping his play to catch her breath before they go any further. She inches forward and turns her face to look up into his eyes, shadowed eyes that speak to her in a language all their own, a language that tells her that she's the only thing he's thinking about right now. His focus is flattering, unnerving, addicting, and she wants nothing more than to be the one that he thinks about all the time, even when she isn't around. _Because that's how I think of you._

"I was," he says, "contrary to anything you thought, pleased to spend time with you. But I _was_ cranky and hungry and those girls were being disrespectful of your presence." Keeping his gaze, she nudges their hands down to her waist, holding them there. The heat of his palm against her skin feels nice _._ "I'm not a celebrity and I don't seek the limelight," he continues. "It's unavoidable as an Ootori and I can deal with that. I just don't cater to it. Their fawning, discreet as it was, failed to take into account that we might have been on a date."

She actually hears the words 'might have been on a date,' and responds, "But we weren't and you even dissed me, a little." His face remains impassive, but his eyes say he's listening and remembering.

"Indifference may be viewed as rudeness, but I also didn't want you thinking that we _were_ on a date." The emphasized word is accompanied by a feathery tickle in her side. She laughs aloud and squirms in his arms.

"Playing it both ways, I see," she says between chortles. Then he kisses her once, twice, three times until she drops her face and releases the throw to re-button her shirt, the fur hanging loosely around her shoulders. "And why was that?"

"Because I thought Tamaki was interested in you," comes the do-I-really-need-to-tell-you-this answer.

Haruhi's short-lived surety is shaken as she ponders what she may now know about the blond. And Kyoya. She wraps herself up in the fur once more and crosses her arms. "But he isn't interested in me at all, is he?" She looks at Kyoya from the sides of her eyes. "Not me, nor any other girl." Kyoya's eyes widen with surprise. "Is he?"

"Why do you say that _?"_ he asks, his face unreadable, but his voice, troubled.

 _"_ Because that's what the twins said today and that's not all," she says in a rush. _Topic opened, like it or not._

"The twins..."

"Implied that Tamaki-senpai is gay and- and-" Her mind flails amidst their flirtation, fondling and the growing attachment she feels for him while everything she's been trying to keep at bay claims her. "I don't know what to believe any more," she proclaims, bringing herself back to earth from the stratosphere of sexual arousal.

She pushes back and Kyoya releases her as she steps down from the curb to face him. _Don't be a coward, Haruhi. It's not like you._ She's animated as she tells him, "It's gossip and I never listen to gossip, especially from the twins, but when it involves people I care about, I can't help but think about it. I don't know what to make of anything today, but please don't make me ask, Kyoya. Just tell me if you care for anyone other than me."

Kyoya's eyes scan hers, his implacable persona replaced by astonishment. "Haruhi, whatever they said, whatever happened today, please know that I... the other night..."

"What?" she asks softly, sincerely, seeing his genuine discomfort as he turns away from her and her heart begins to pound. _Just tell me._

And then he turns back, as composed as she's ever seen him. "I told you that I would answer any question you asked me. I meant it then and I mean it now. I won't lie to you or exploit you." She waits as several silent seconds tick by. "There's something you should know."

 _Here it is._ A cold pit forms in her stomach matched only by a gust of icy wind that whips around them. Haruhi opens the ends of her "stole" and moves forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Kyoya's waist, enveloping him. _At least let me hold you while you break my heart._ But the cold she couldn't feel earlier is now penetrating every molecule of her body as their future together lay on the line.

She lifts her face and says, "I know you'll tell me everything." Then adds in rapid recitation,"'For the Snark's a peculiar creature, that won't be caught in a commonplace way. Do all that you know, and try all that you don't: not a chance must be wasted to-day!'" She presses the side of her face against his chest and waits.

The wind howls around them again and they adhere to one another. When the elements subside, Kyoya's voice is low and she feels him speaking against the top of her head. "But you have caught me and I've no wish to be with anyone but you, or anywhere but here."

Her eyes close. _It might be the truth right now or it might be a lie, but it's a start. Even if it is a lie, I can't just let you go. Dammit all. I'm just another foolish girl playing a foolish game._ But she looks up into the face of the person she's falling in love with. "Me, too," she says, shivering, "Except for the anywhere but here part."

"What?" He's baffled.

"Anywhere but here - as in, maybe inside instead?" He nods quickly and they scurry indoors.

In the hallway, they relish the heated entry area, Haruhi handing Kyoya the throw before tucking in her shirt and finger-combing her hair. _Tamaki probably_ _is_ _gay, but gay guys do not do what we were doing! Unless what Dad said is true. He sounded sincere but what do I know? I'm clueless about these things.  
_

Kyoya is also lost in thought, leaning his back against the wall opposite her. His head is tipped back and he's staring into space. "Haruhi-"

"It'll keep," she rejoins, unwilling to destroy the fragile feelings at play, the memory of his touch fresh and their declarations echoing in her mind. _For now...it'll keep._ Crossing the narrow space, she touches his free hand with her own. He head drops forward, his eyes and mouth softening at her touch.

She adds in a lighter tone and a small smile, "Besides, your sister's probably wondering what's happened to us, hm?"

He takes in a long breath and releases it through his nose. "You're right."

"It'll keep and you'll tell me everything. I'll listen and it'll be okay. Just not here, not now, not yet."

He squeezes her hand.

End - Chapter 44 - Under the Influence

* * *

Under the Influence by Jordyn Taylor [Haruhi-centric]

Butterflies - the moment I look in your eyes.  
I feel my heartbeat rush to my head.  
Try not to catch my breath. I don't.  
Oh vertigo. So dizzy, boy, when you get close.  
I get the taste of paradise on my lips,  
Tingles on my fingertips and toes.  
And don't you know what's happening?  
'Cause, boy, I do.

I'm under the influence of love.  
Every night and every day  
I just want to feel this way.  
I'm under the influence and can't get enough.  
So I will stay, I will stay here.  
(Under the influence of love)  
Yeah, I will stay here.  
(Under the influence of love)

Hypnotized, the moment that I realize  
You put some kind of love spell on me.  
Now everything little thing I see is you.  
Oh relentless, how you attack on my senses.  
I'm lost inside some perfect kind of place.  
I never thought I'd feel like this, but I do.  
And don't you know what's happening?  
'Cause, boy, I do.

CHORUS

You intoxicate with your embrace, you know.  
(I'm weightless, I'm weightless.)  
It's so crazy how just being by your side…

CHORUS (2x)


	45. Glitter in the Air

They stand without motion, without sound, as memory and tactile connection continue to synchronize the beating of heart, pattern of thought and mating of soul. And then they hear a voice clearing itself.

"What is it?" Kyoya asks, his eyes never leaving Haruhi's upturned face.

"Madam wishes to tell you that the appetizer you requested is ready to be served, young sir," the Shidos' manservant says.

"Thank you, Shinji-san." The message actually brings a subtle smile to the focused young man, but he doesn't move.

"We really should go in," Haruhi says.

"I don't want to."

He's said those words before, after he'd kissed her in Music Room 3, long and lingering. She'd stopped his pursuit, then. _Was it only a few weeks ago? How strange to feel so differently. Strange and wonderful because it's you, Kyoya._ She stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek before tugging them back into reality.

They enter the living room and Haruhi is again struck by her surroundings and, simultaneously, by the cautionary Kyoya has mentioned about the surface of wealth not being the whole story. _But everything is so beautiful here. If ever I have this kind of money, I'll be sure to give some to those who need it most - often, like Fuyumi does._ Said namesake, meanwhile, is centrally seated on a cushioned, sand-colored leather sofa liberally decorated with a hodgepodge of toss pillows. She rises upon seeing them as Kyoya replaces the throw where it lay earlier.

"Come, you two," says Fuyumi. "Warm yourselves here," she says gesturing towards an expanse of wall where a glass-enclosed gas fire burns brightly. "What are you thinking going outside without coats? Young people have warm blood, it seems," she says with a twinkle in her eye.

Haruhi can't deny the statement as her body simmers. She dare not look at Kyoya, but refocuses her thoughts by gazing into the wide space where the fire is contained, noting that the enclosure is transparent on both sides and beyond the wall there is another room.

Her date guides her to the matching sofa opposite Fuyumi's and gestures for her to sit down. "Please make yourself at home," he says, nonplussed by the innuendo. "My sister will be highly offended if she detects even an ounce of stiffness on your part."

Kyoya's self-possessed exterior has always belied an active inner life and now, as he ponders Haruhi's willingness, however limited, he anticipates their next step. The thoughts that scamper through his agile mind require more than a mental tether. He sloughs off his Ouran blazer and lays it across a sofa arm, then loosens his school tie until it's slack and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a very tempting vee of smooth, soft skin.

Deliberate or unintentional, Haruhi has a sudden urge to taste the space just beneath his jaw, her gaze fixed until she glances up and finds herself looking into a pair of amused eyes. She looks away, feeling her cheeks glow. _Get a hold of yourself, Haruhi._

She sits back, distracted but able to acknowledge the sleek sofa's butter-soft hide. Kyoya settles himself beside her, crossing his legs in her direction, his arm laid across the spine of the sofa, behind her back. _I like that_. His entire being seems attentive to her and she likes that, too. _We're a couple. Whatever happened before, happened. Kyoya is with me, here and now. Everything will be okay._

The Shidos' manservant appears with a tray bearing food and beverage. "Arigato, Shinji-san," Fuyumi states as the white-haired elder lays down a cloth and prepares three settings on the long table ensconced between the sofas, each with a rolled towel in a reed basket set beside a black square plate bearing a single, perfect piece of ootoro atop a pristine rice pillow.

Haruhi's eyes grow wide as she recognizes that most delicious delicacy of which she never grows tired. A quick glance at Kyoya finds him looking at her with contentment from the corners of his eyes. _This is your doing, isn't it?_ her eyes suggest and his eyes blink, "yes." She observes this with an ever growing sense of how different Kyoya's life has been and how, without intention, his perspective skewed by circumstance, just like her own. _But it's only because of circumstance. People are still just people._

Fuyumi leans over the table and pours out three cups of seishu and offers one to Haruhi. "Would your father mind? I know you aren't old enough."

"S'ok. I've had sake before."

"Not like this, Haruhi," Kyoya states. Haruhi has sampled rice wine once or twice and disliked the warm drink but, not wanting to be rude, she takes the cup. Fuyumi softly offers, "kanpai," which they mimic, then imbibe together. To her surprise, Haruhi finds the liquid cool on her palette and less sweet than she recalls. _Maybe I like this, after all._

They place the empty cups on the tray in near synchronicity. "May I serve you?" Kyoya then asks, leaning forward to pick up a plate and offer it to Haruhi. "I think I owe you that."

She takes it. "I thought I was the one in debt- Oh, wait. No. I'm not, after all. Am I?"

Her jibe at the Host Club accountant is received with grace and lowered eyes of acknowledgement. When he looks up, Harhui's lips hold a knowing smile.

"I apologize, Fuyumi," Kyoya says, catching his sibling's confused expression. "It's impolite to discuss things that exclude you. It recently came to be known that Haruhi's debt over the vase she inadvertently shattered has been covered for some time."

"And," Haruhi adds with a tip of her head towards Kyoya as she also addresses Fuyumi, "It seems someone has known this for some time, yet never told me."

Fuyumi looks dismayed. "Kyo-ya. You didn't mislead this lovely girl for personal gain, did you? That would be inconsiderate and unbecoming of a gentleman."

Kyoya sighs as he considers both females. "Indeed. Though one must do what one must do to obtain one's objectives."

"Surely you don't consider Haruhi an objective." Fuyumi's eyes pin her brother's and he demurs.

"Not in the way you suggest, although I did consider her merit as a Host when we first met. It was simply business." His final statement holds the authority of one accustomed to making decisions. Fuyumi shakes her head.

Haruhi sits quietly, taking in their conversation, unphased by Kyoya's statements but thoroughly enjoying the utter ease with which Fuyumi chastises her brother for his less than admirable character traits. Then comes an easing of Kyoya's attitude and a tilt of his head towards herself.

"Things are different now," he says softly and their eyes find one another's. Fuyumi's reply is heard as the two teens watch one another, savoring the changing nature of their relationship.

"Then promise me you'll never see this young woman as anything other than your friend who deserves nothing less than your utmost consideration and respect."

Kyoya looks at his sister who eyeballs him with the same intensity she reserves for her son and waits, in true Ootori fashion, until Kyoya acknowledges her ultimatum. Haruhi has never seen anyone confront Kyoya to this extent and get away with it, unscathed. She half expects the siblings to enter a heated argument but, no, Kyoya's face remains calm, a subtle smile gracing his features.

"It is assured," he says at last and the tenor of the room shifts back into congeniality, as Fuyumi balances a plate on her palm, passing it to Kyoya who takes it with two, cradling it in his hands as Fuyumi's recede. Their actions reflect respect for the food they eat, the accoutrements in its partaking and the people who have made it possible. Haruhi does likewise, admiring the plate in her palm and the way the food and vessel appear, appreciating the weight, shape, color and finish, as Ryoji has taught her. _I may be a commoner, but I do have manners. I'm just not sure if Ootori ootoro is eaten with some special ceremony._

She's eager to learn so she watches as the siblings balance their plates on a single palm at chest level in exactly the same way. _Ditto_. There is no accompanying sauce, but Haruhi prefers none. Her mouth already watering; still, she waits.

Fuyumi picks up the morsel entire between her thumb and two forefingers and gracefully lifts it to her mouth, the plate serving as a floating tray beneath. Haruhi imitates and then propriety is left behind as the fish melts on her tongue, its flavor infusing her with delight. Her eyes close and her shoulders rise as she swallows and takes the other half in, audibly humming with pleasure. _Heavenly._

She opens her eyes and gasps softly as she looks at her plate where, miraculously, another piece of tuna has appeared, as if the first had reappeared. She looks over at Fuyumi whose eyes are crinkled from the bright smile she bears.

"My brother is a quick study, is he not?"

Haruhi looks to her right, where Kyoya sits watching her with a steady gaze. His own plate is empty.

"Kyoya, I couldn't possibly take this from you," she says.

"But I enjoy watching you enjoying it," he says with a perfectly straight face though Haruhi "hears" his meta-message.

"I appreciate your sudden generosity, but anticipation can be satisfying, too."

"Vorfreude! Exactly."

"Meaning?" she asks, dropping her head to one side in capitulation to his tease.

"Vorfreude? It means enjoying the moments leading to something wonderful."

"Like summer vacation?"

"You could say that. Or another piece of ootoro."

"Thank you," she tells him. "Such a peace offering demands forgiveness of other faux pas."

He places a hand over his heart. "I'm honored."

And they chortle, with an observant Fuyumi happy for them both.

"Such mirth and merriment in my home!" comes a deep, booming voice from the archway. The seated trio looks up and Haruhi sees a burly man in his thirties, attired in businessman garb. He is dark-haired with a narrow mustache and ruddy cheeks. An air of joviality surrounds him as he smacks Shinji-san on the back, who nearly topples over as he clutches the man's overcoat.

"And how are you tonight, my loyal friend? Staying warm? Be sure to rub your toes before getting into bed tonight, eh? Wives don't like popsicle toes. Trust me, I know."

"Hiroshi, stop. You're embarrassing the man," Fuyumi chides with a wave of her hand as she rises and heads to where her husband waits.

"And now I will embarrass you," he says, engulfing her small frame in a bear hug as soon as she is near enough. Fuyumi tolerates it for a few seconds then pushes him back. He stumbles backwards. "Such strength for such a tiny person," he jibes. "I had better watch out or I'll be tossed like a sack of rice."

Fuyumi presses a hand to her hip while the other smacks her forehead. "You're impossible. Come, meet my new friend."

Shido Hiroshi approaches and Kyoya and Haruhi both rise, bowing with respect. As they straighten, Hiroshi proclaims, "Kyo! Good to see you here. Always welcome in my home!"

The man steps in and grabs his brother-in-law in the same tight hug as he did his wife. Kyoya looks mortified as Haruhi watches, leaning back a few degrees, uncertain of her own expected behavior. Hiroshi releases Kyoya who recovers himself, adjusting his glasses.

"And who is this?" he asks, looking at Haruhi. "A pretty girl or a pretty boy? I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend but I'm never sure with Kyoya's friends. They're a good-looking lot, for sure, and you're no different."

Fuyumi grabs her husband's hand and pulls him towards the other sofa. "Please be calm," she insists as she retakes her seat and tugs at Hiroshi, who follows suit, along with Haruhi and Kyoya. Gesturing with her head, Fuyumi says, "This is Fujioka Haruhi, Kyoya's classmate and friend. She's also a...Host?" She looks at Haruhi for direction.

Haruhi complies with, "I am and yes, I'm a girl." Hiroshi's brow crinkles. "It's a long story, but it's nice to meet you, Shido-sama."

"Ahh, nice to meet you, too. Do you like my home? It's fantastic, isn't it? I love it. Have you met my son, Kenshin? He's a sharp boy, just like Kyoya here. I expect one day he'll be working for you, eh?

"Perhaps," comes the reply. "It's a bit too early to tell, I think."

"Nonsense. One must always think in positive terms. That's the way to make things happen." Hiroshi turns and calls out "Shinji-san!" The manservant appears and bows to them all. "Is dinner ready? I'm famished."

"All is awaiting your approval, sensei."

"Then let's go. Kyoya, you'll escort your sister and I will escort your pretty friend. Fuyumi? Lead the way."

They head towards the room Haruhi surmised existed earlier. Fuyumi takes Kyoya's proffered arm, just as Haruhi takes the arm of the large gentleman beside her. She doesn't know him well but she already likes him.

The dining room is smaller, but no less elegant than the living room. The fireplace is visible here, too, a focal point opposite another bank of tall windows beyond which a different view of Tokyo provides a canvas of living art for her to enjoy while warm and being fed. Instead of a Western dining set there is a low oblong table with cushioned chairs surrounding, their squat, curved legs lifting them a few inches above the floor. _  
_

 _I could get used to this._ A pang of guilt claims her until she reminds herself of Fuyumi's words about using wealth to assist others rather than to exploit them. And her surroundings  are beautiful, as is the young man pulling out a chair for his sister. Kyoya and Fuyumi are talking quietly between themselves and Kyoya smiles while nodding. Their relationship is clearly one of respect and care and she recalls the way he spoke about Yuuichi. _They aren't close. Is it just age or something else?_

Hiroshi insists Haruhi take a seat that faces the view directly. She bows and thanks him for his generosity.

"You're a guest at my table. I can do no less. Now, if you will excuse me briefly." He leaves the room.

 _I like Hiroshi; he's nice and he and Fuyumi seem a good match. I wonder if Kyoya and I will live like this one day._ The train of thought rises unbidden, revealing herself to herself. _What am I doing? We're dating. That's all it is. But…_ her body memory feels Kyoya's hands on her skin, the way it thrilled and comforted, made her feel beautiful. _I don't need that, but I want it. I want him in my life. Is that wrong? It never mattered before but it does, now, with him and only him._

She lifts lowered eyes, expecting Kyoya to sit beside his sister. Instead, he circles the table and stands beside her chair. Hiroshi re-enters, a dark yukata replacing his suit jacket and tie. Kyoya waits until Hiroshi settles beside Fuyumi, then assumes his place at the table. The chair's small rise allows the men to sit cross-legged without back strain and the women with their legs to one side. Kyoya's knee bumps into both of hers. When their knees remain touching, she relaxes, as they reconnect their energies.

Food is brought to a sideboard and their plates prepared by Shinji-san. As they are served, Haruhi says, "I'm afraid I'm a bad guest, being unprepared and without a gift."

"Nonsense," Hiroshi says. "I was told your visit was unplanned, so it's not expected."

"But I would like to give you both something so," Haruhi says then pauses. "Do you like poetry?"

"Do you know any?" Fuyumi asks.

"Some foreign and some Japanese. Do you have a preference?"

"Whatever you feel from your heart, Haru-chan," the dark-haired beauty replies.

"Well, as a commoner I'm sure I'm not as well-read as either or you, nor Kyoya. But I do know one that my father taught me about early spring."

"Which begins this week," Hiroshi states.

Fuyumi adds, "And which applies to your name, of course."

"Of course," Haruhi replies. She looks over at Kyoya, waiting for his comment. His face betrays no emotion but for the twitch of his cheek near his jaw, causing an impish grin to lift the corners of Haruhi's mouth. _Worried, are you, that the commoner might say something inappropriate?_

"Please, go on," he says.

The table grows quiet as Shinji withdraws and everyone focuses on the brunette with the large expressive eyes. Calling upon her Host training, Haruhi calms her sudden nerves and recites:

"harusame ya [spring rain]  
kuware-nokori no [the uneaten ducks]  
kamo ga naku" [are quacking]

Silence follows for a moment, worrying Haruhi, until Hiroshi's booming laughter fills the room, Fuyumi's melodic voice chiming in. Haruhi chuckles, too. She looks once more at her dining companion and though he's shaking his head in a slow back and forth movement reminiscent of his oft reaction to Tamaki's antics, his eyes are warm.

Hiroshi's "itadakimasu" is chorused and their meal begins. What follows is simple but filling, with traditional dishes Haruhi has always enjoyed but never in such abundance. Hiroshi is a gregarious host and keeps them in a good mood. The looks that pass between husband and wife are telling and Haruhi sees they're happy with one another.

_This must be what it was like for Mom and Dad. I'm glad, Mom. Please send me a sign if this is meant for me and…Kyoya, ok? Not right away, of course, but eventually. I promise that no matter what you say, I'll heed your advice._

Their meal concludes and feeling better than she has all day, Haruhi extends, "Gochiso sama deshita," which is again chorused. "You have a good life," she appends to her benefactors.

Hiroshi nods in agreement and turns his head towards Fuyumi. "I have a good wife," he says, leaning over to plant a peck on her cheek. Fuyumi is flustered at the public display of affection and pushes him away, though her cheeks betray its warming effect. "What? We're all family here, aren't we?"

It's Haruhi's turn to be put off-kilter when his words slide adjacent to her thoughts, unbeknownst to the others, and she looks down.

"You've embarrassed our guest, anata," Fuyumi scolds gently before apologizing to Haruhi.

Hiroshi is puzzled. "But I assumed from the way you two look at one ano- Ow! Fu-yu-mi." And then he catches Haruhi's chagrined expression and the way Kyoya pushes at his glasses. "Ah, I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn, you two, but you see," Hiroshi continues to Haruhi, "my brother-in-law has never once brought a female guest to my home, so I assumed there was a reason for that. I assume too much."

"Minimally," Kyoya offers, his knee pressing into Haruhi's. "Haruhi and I have only just begun dating."

"And," Fuyumi says to her husband in the same manner she chided both Kenshin and Kyoya, "We are not to say anything to my father."

Hiroshi considers their words, then in a muted voice directed at Haruhi, "It would be my honor to defend your secret."

"Seems like there are a lot of people doing that, now," Haruhi remarks thinking of her interaction with Renge earlier that day and the hosts every other day of her life.

Hiroshi's brow knits and he regards her from the sides of his eyes. "I'm not sure what that means."

"It means," Kyoya explains, "that Haruhi's gender at Ouran Academy is deemed to be male by observation, not information. It was an error of judgment Tamaki thought to be an advantage to the Host Club, so we've kept it on a need-to-know basis."

"When it suits him," adds Haruhi, and Fuyumi chuckles as their eyes meet.

Hiroshi continues, "I'm sure I don't need to know all the details, but I will keep your budding coupledom to myself, as requested."

Kyoya intercedes, "Thank you, Hiroshi. Will you be joining us on our outing?" Haruhi's head swivels to see Kyoya's calm profile, then to Fuyumi, who again winks at her.

"Ah, no, tonight is impossible as I have to catch an early flight to Milan in the morning. But I'm sure Fuyumi will chaperone you."

"Chaperone, no. Tag along, definitely," says the better half of the Shido-Ootori power couple.

 _And again I'm kept in the dark? This is getting to be a habit._ "Excuse me, Kyoya, Fuyumi. I seem to be once more kept out of the loop in Kyoya's planning."

"I'm sorry, Haru-chan, but he wanted it to be a surprise."

"What?" she asks, looking directly into Kyoya's eyes, a mild warning in her voice.

"I don't recall if I ever told you that my sister trained as an Olympic athlete." Haruhi's eyes register due surprise. "She's a world-class figure skater."

"Was a world-class skater," Fuyumi gently corrects. "I retired from competition when I became pregnant, by choice, but I still love to skate and Ken-bo is already able to stand up on the ice."

"I had no idea," Haruhi states, further impressed by the woman sitting across from her.

"I thought it might be fun for us to go to the rink where I used to train. They know me well and I've reserved an hour for ourselves. Do you skate?"

"Nothing like you, I'm sure."

"Kyoya used to be quite good, but he doesn't come with me as often as he used to."

"Schoolwork is a priority," Kyoya reminds.

"Not tonight," his sister states. "Tonight, you two will have some fun while I pay homage to Aisu no Kami, ne?"

Kyoya turns to Haruhi without saying a word, his face serious, until a slow smile claims the lips she wants to kiss once more.

End - Chapter 45 - Glitter in the Air

* * *

Glitter in the Air by Pink [Haruhi-centric]

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?  
Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?  
Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?  
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care."?

It's only half past the point of no return,  
The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn,  
The thunder before the lightning and the breath before the phrase.  
Have you ever felt this way?

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?  
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone?  
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?  
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

It's only half past the point of oblivion,  
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run,  
The breath before the kiss, and the fear before the phrase.  
Have you ever felt this way?

La la la la la la la la

There you are, sitting in the garden,  
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar.  
You called me sugar.

Have you ever wished for an endless night?  
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?  
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself

Will it ever get better than tonight?

Tonight?


	46. One Life

_Earlier that day…_

The staff refectory of Ouran Academy is a simple room where faculty and clerical staff take their meals. Association with the Ootori family grants Hotta access, as well, due to his employer's generous endowment to Ouran University's medical school. He's just sat down to a steaming bowl of udon noodles with vegetables when he hears a familiar ringtone. A small groan and then he answers in a crisp voice, "Hai, hai! Hotta-san here."

"Ah, Hotta-san, might you be available to meet with Chairman Ootori today?"

"Of course." _Amano Seijiro, what do you want? "_What time would be convenient for him?" _After lunch would be preferred._

"Now, if it's no trouble."

"I'll be there in thirty-two minutes."

"Precisely?"

"I am always precise, Amano-san."

"Indeed. Then I shall tell the Chairman to expect you no later than 12:45, in case there is traffic."

"I'll be there in thirty-two minutes. I'm hanging up now." The line clicks off and Hotta rises with a sigh.

"Those Ootori have you on a rather short leash, don't they?" quips the driver of one of Kyoya's classmates.

Hotta remains silent, recognizing disguised envy in the jibe. He slips on his sunglasses and woolen coat, and with a final longing glance at his uneaten lunch, heads to the car.

_It's all in a day's work._

The eyrie offices of the Ootori Group's Chief Executive Officer and zaibatsu are pristine and well-appointed. Seijiro's insistence that Hotta come posthaste is offset by having him wait. It's a well-worn power ploy that the 35-year old has come to accept as typical for those in corporate power.

Hotta is greeted stiffly and his coat and cap set aside. An offer of tea is politely offered and politely declined, as expected. As he sits in the outer office, Hotta observes the assistant interacting with other Ootori Group employees who come to speak with, meet with, or have a request to make of Chairman Ootori. Seijiro puts off each one with a solution of his own.

_The man thinks he's important and I suppose he is, in his way. But he's small potatoes._ _It's Chairman Ootori I'm worried about and only ever worried about.  
_

Meetings with his employer at the estate are routine. Meetings with the CEO of one of Japan's largest business organizations quite another. _What could be so urgent that it couldn't wait? Could it be what happened last evening or…Friday night?_ Hotta's brow knits, extending to the top of his bald pate. Everyone on staff at the Ootori estate is aware of Kyoya's medical emergency on Sunday night whether they want to or not. Gossip, though disdained, is routine among the staff of elite households. But all Hotta has heard mentioned is the evening prior. _Thank kami-sama._

Any other Friday would be of no importance, but this time? This time something happened that makes Hotta wary. He and he, alone, is aware of the sound pick up the Chairman asked him to install in the vehicles used to transport Kyoya to and from school and around town. He's never questioned why. _It's not my place_. But upon hearing the recording, Hotta suspects more than conversation was ongoing.

_If Kyoya-sama wants to indulge in some hijinx with his best friend, that's his business. Boys their age will try just about anything once just for the experience and Suoh-sama has charisma. Maybe they were curious. Then there was the other boy he was out with on Sunday - a younger boy, very cute. Kyoya-sama seemed happy with him though they seemed to do little more than talk. Seemed like a nice kid, too, asking about my career and all. Not many of these rich kids show any interest in anything other than themselves._

"Chairman Ootori will see you now."

When ushered into the hushed space of Yoshio Ootori's office, Hotta's bravado is reduced to humility. The dapper CEO of the Ootori Group is an intimidating and impressive man on multiple levels, the room reflecting its owner's wealth, prestige and power. Hotta bows, keeping his eyes averted.

….."Hotta, you have been well?"  
"Very well, Chairman, thanks to your generosity."  
"Come, come, my friend. There's no need to be so formal when it's just the two of us."  
"As you wish, sir." …

Pleasantries are quickly dispatched and Yoshio gets to the heart of the matter, exacting from the chauffeur his suppositions about what occurred between Kyoya and Tamaki. Yoshio is displeased and Hotta offers his resignation. It's promptly refused which, for some reason, bothers Hotta even more. He's told to bring Kyoya back at the end of the school day.

Now, as he, Tachibana and Kyoya head back to the city from Ouran's campus, Hotta wonders: _Did I do the right thing and if I did, why do I feel so badly? It's part of my job. I owe sensei alot and who am I to question orders, even if they're unreasonable? Tachibana-san would have done the same, wouldn't he?_ But Hotta knows the bodyguard's loyalty to his charge is unwavering. He's still mulling things over as Kyoya and Tachibana disappear into the Ootori Group headquarters. Hotta waits at the curb outside the monolithic building nestled amongst other Tokyo architectural titans, his thoughts drifting to another day, when he was a younger man with less worries and greater freedom.

OoOoO

Six high-powered race cars are surging into the penultimate curve at the Fuji Speedway and Hotta is preparing to slipstream into the lead once he reaches the mile-long straightaway to the checkered flag. He's second behind Hoshino Kazuki, one of the top drivers in Japan, an accolade Hotta will possess if he wins this race. The day is dreary with a fine mist appearing in the last hour, saturating the air and slicking the track. A change of tires would be wise, but there's no time.

Hotta's hands are steady on the steering dash of the F1 that allows him to change gears, apply or limit rev, adjust fuel/air mix, change brake pressure and call the radio. Data such as engine rpm, lap times, speed and gear is displayed on an embedded LCD screen. With solid experience and nerves of steel, he is one with the vehicle, every part of his body and neuron in his brain attuned to the sounds and sensations of a 650 kilogram machine made of carbon fiber and chrome hurtling at over 200 km/h around Checkpoint 15. One last curve and he'll make his move.

Hotta doesn't think about the danger; he feels it. His heart pumps steadily, only slightly faster than normal. The vehicle responds to his touch like a woman, the nearness of death arousing. His thoughts stray for a blip, but it allows the McLaren driver to match and then move past him into second place.

 _No!_ Hotta's plan is foolproof as long as he's directly behind Hoshino, twenty feet ahead. Now his maneuver is dicey. He positions himself behind the McLaren a mere ten feet ahead. He must be in exactly the right spot at the right time if he is to trail brake the last turn and retake second place. Then he can use Hoshino's draft to slingshot himself into the Winner's Circle.

Checkpoint 16. Intent on his plan rather than his safety, Hotta feels the draft but instead of managing physics on the curve, he revs the motor then swerves to one side at nearly 300 km/h, braking while turning to cut the corner and maneuver in front of the McLaren at the head of the straightaway. His immediate rival attempts the same, but misjudges the timing, clipping the front of the F1.

Hotta is thrown off trajectory and careens down the track, spinning as it goes. The offending vehicle manages to escape as Hotta struggles to stabilize midst acrid smoke that burns his eyes and the stench of burning rubber. He sees the green of the grassy center oval and pulls the car hard in its direction. Gears screech in agony but the tires cannot hold the slick, pitched track. Then comes the booming crack and splintering of a vehicle crashing into his as the remainder of the field is upon him. The roar of engines, the smell of spilling fuel and the disorientation he experiences take on a surreal quality.

The F1 begins to roll and Hotta instinctively grips the roll bar with one hand and the wheel with the other, hoping to land upright before stopping, but the momentum is too great and the car tumbles over and over and over again until it stops, upside down, with Hotta pinned, the steering wheel mashed into his shoulder. He feels flames at his feet and he screams.

It seems like only a few moments have passed when next he awakens. The first thing he notices is that it's quiet. Then, the machines that surround him, multiple tubes leading into and out of him, readouts measuring kami-sama knows what. He can't speak and his mouth is dry as dust, and he's breathing with the help of a ventilator.

A person leans over his face and leaves. Another person leans over and shines lights in his eyes. It hurts, but he can see. Darkness falls again. His dreams are nightmares with periodic episodes of dreamless sleep. He doesn't know whether it's night or day, nor does he care. The excruciating pain he initially feels is replaced by a dull aching throughout his body. He hears things over the course of days - or is it weeks - snippets of conversation, his name being called, and always someone leaning over him, touching him, moving him. He is an infant again, dependent on those around him for the simplest needs. It's galling.

Then, one day, he's able to breathe on his own. He regains his voice and asks for water. The face he's come to know leans over and smiles, then helps him sit up to take in fluid through something other than a feeding tube. He can only manage a few sips and swallowing hurts like hell, but he's drinking. Then eating. Each day his strength improves and he wonders when the bandages will be coming off his arm.

He learns that the surgeon who stitched him back together is Ootori Yoshio-sensei. The prominent doctor is one who has visited every day, asking questions and giving orders to the residents that follow like pigeons waiting for tossed crumbs. It reassures Hotta to be the patient of such an important and talented man. Healing continues.

"But please, Sensei, when are the bandages coming off?" he asks, often. His arm hurts and they need to be removed. Ootori-sensei looks into his eyes a long while, then leaves.

The day after, another physician visits him. He's younger than the surgeon, but closely resembles him. This is Ootori Yuuichi-sensei, son of the surgeon and a psychiatrist, taking time from his busy practice to explain to Hotta that there are no bandages.

"But I feel them. I feel my arm. It hurts so the bandages must be too tight. Please loosen them." It is only after many days of talking and thinking about the questions his psychiatrist poses that Hotta realizes there are no bandages because there is no arm, only a phantom limb. He weeps.

A prosthetic is devised and Hotta works diligently to master its use. Surgeon Ootori-sensei tells him he is the first man in Japan to receive such a stunning piece of engineering developed by Ootori Medical. News reporters who have followed the story of his near-death and long recovery return to take photos of the man with the marvelous prosthetic arm and now-defunct career. Their words both comfort and sting and Hotta falls into depression. Psychiatrist Ootori-sensei is again there, coaxing him to recover his pride and his life. It's difficult.

In time, Hotta regains his strength and is ready to leave hospital. He asks about the expenses he's incurred and learns, for the first time, the staggering amount of his debt. A call to his racing sponsor reveals that only a portion of the bills are covered. The prosthetic is not, being experimental surgery. Left without a racing career and lacking an arm, Hotta wonders _how will I live?_

A suggestion is made. If Hotta can no longer race the professional circuit, perhaps he would like to become a personal driver for the Ootori family. _For the Ootori?_ Hotta will do anything for Sensei Sr. or Jr. They have saved his life and given him hope and now they have offered him a job. _How can I say no? Why would I say no?_ He is not to chauffeur either doctor, but there is a third son, still in middle school who needs a driver.

And so Hotta meets Kyoya. He's a somber boy, but exceptionally bright. Difficult to manage, he's been told. No matter. The boy appraises him with as sharp an eye as his esteemed father and Hotta impertinently asks why the fourteen year-old is only a 2nd-year.

"My parents postponed my entry into Grade One in order that I might have an advantage over my classmates," comes the answer in fine diction and an air of superiority from the dark-haired boy.

"And has that worked out for you, young Master?"

"I am at the top of my class and class representative once more. It's boring, but demonstrates leadership on a university application. Junochi-chan will take care of the small details."

"Junochi-chan. Is that your girlfriend?"

"Ayame Junochi is not my girlfriend and unlikely to ever be so. Besides, I don't have time for such things, Hotta-san. My education is foremost and my eventual marriage will be arranged, so there's no merit in an emotional relationship."

Hotta nods. _Fourteen going on forty. He's a handsome lad, but stiff. Whatever. I just need to drive._

For several months, he does just that until, one day, Kyoya appears in the garage where Hotta spends much of his time, caring for the Bentley, the Mercedes, the Phaeton and the Audi - every one of them black as night, with tinted glass and elegant interiors, luxury vehicles that while beautiful, lack the danger of his speedsters. He adjusts to his new lifestyle and the presence of the smoke-eyed boy who comes by nearly every day.

Kyoya is now fifteen, a middle school 3rd-year, and curious about combustible engines. He wants to touch everything, to learn by doing and so, behind the back of his employer and the closed doors of the multi-vehicle Ootori estate garage, Hotta begins Kyoya's practical education. The boy is a quick study. Having mastered basic mechanics, Kyoya turns his attention to aesthetics. Sitting with a drawing pad, he sketches the vehicles in fine detail with pencils and chalks, adding unusual hood ornaments and patterned interiors, coloring the exteriors in odd colors no elite family would be caught dead driving - a chartreuse Bentley, a magenta Mercedes and so on.

It's during this winter that Hotta truly gets to know the third son of the Ootori family. He learns that he is something of a dreamer in spite of his acumen with hard numbers and facts, learns that he enjoys reading books and discussing them with the now bald-headed man, and learns that he burns to become the next patriarch of the Ootori family despite his weak position in the family hierarchy. As for Ootori Kazu, they never discuss the family matriarch. She's abroad more than she's at home, Kyoya misses her and arguments with his father become regular occurrences.

Kyoya is sad but maintains a facade of indifference. High school is a treacherous place for teenage boys intent on proving their mettle, but he's managing. Visits to the garage stop as Kyoya begins to spend time with a boy named Suoh. They're unlikely friends, but the relationship works. Suoh, called Tamaki, becomes a regular guest at the estate and Hotta, like Fuyumi, enjoys the blond's cheery nature. Kyoya both appreciates and disapproves of Tamaki, but the hafu continues to pursue their friendship with zeal.

Kyoya seems happier until Yoshio is caught in yet another love nest and Hotta watches with dismay as the now-seventeen year old Kyoya grows sullen and withdrawn, yet again. Fuyumi tries to fill Kazu's role, but family dynamics are strained. It's then that Tamaki proves his worth as a friend and the very different young men find parity. The last year has been tense, but Kyoya seems to have found his footing and his voice. _This is good._

Now eighteen and about to become a high school 3rd-year, Kyoya has already applied to several prestigious universities and will graduate early if enrolled in an American or European school. Hotta wonders if he'll still be employed if Kyoya leaves Japan. No matter. His history with the Ootori guarantees him a job anywhere he chooses, though he'll miss his young Master.

OoOoO

All this channels through Hotta's mind as he waits for Kyoya to emerge from the Ootori Group headquarters. When Tachibana and he appear, Hotta notes Kyoya's stern face. When they reach the curb, Kyoya looks at him with a glint bouncing off his glasses. _He knows or he suspects something, but it can't be helped._ Kyoya is perceptive and the information Hotta shared could only have come from himself or Tachibana, but Tachibana's loyalty to Kyoya is supreme. The chauffeur hopes that the young Ootori will understand his loyalty, honor and duty to his benefactor.

As they drive towards the Shido residence, Kyoya suddenly demands he stop, baffling Hotta, but he pulls to the curb. As they wait for Kyoya to return, Hotta asks, "How did the meeting go?"

"Not well, but that's how it is between our employer and our young Master these days."

"What was the argument about this time?" Hotta inquires, feigning ignorance.

"I don't know and I won't ask."

"Why did Kyoya-sama make us stop? Do you know that?"

A corner of Tachibana's mouth lifts in a half-smile. "I imagine it's because of Fujioka-san."

"Not Tamaki-sama?"

Tachibana casts a sharp look at his companion. "No."

"But I thought…" Hotta's voice trails off and Tachibana's brows arch.

Still later, as Aijima joins them and the three men share a simple meal in the Shido kitchen, Hotta's discomfort increases. He recalls the look on Kyoya's face as he asked, "Is everything alright, Hotta-san?" and Tachibana's definititve, "I am at your disposal, young Master, to serve and protect."

 _Isn't that my role, too? Perhaps I've allowed my debt to color my actions. Kyoya-sama deserves my loyalty and my ethics should be honored._ "There's something I need to tell you both," he says and his companions look at him. Hotta bows his head. "I have done our young Master a disservice in allowing my personal values to be compromised and I regret it. I can no longer do so."

"What do you mean?" Tachibana asks steadily and Hotta looks up.

"Kyoya-sama is eighteen, a young man. He deserves his space and his privacy. Until now, I have been required to report his activities to Ootori-sama Sr. but I can no longer do so in the same manner as before."

If the two men with Hotta are shocked or perturbed, they don't show it. "So," says Aijima, "you plan to withhold information?"

"I haven't, so far, because Kyoya-sama was underage, but that's no longer true and he has a sensible head on his shoulders. If he were my son, I would be proud. I would never stoop to spying in the manner our employer has done."

Tachibana nods. "If this is discovered, you'll be released without references."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Will you tell Kyoya-sama?" asks Aijima.

Hotta pauses. "You're both more experienced in life than myself. What do you think I should do?"

Tachibana is silent but Aijima, the oldest among them, considers the question. Finally he says, "If the purpose of revelation is a reality-check and to bring closure, then yes. But if the purpose of revelation is simply to assuage guilt without improving anything, it's moot."

"Some things are better left unsaid," Tachibana adds.

Aijima leaves to return to his street duties while the remaining two men sip their tea and Hotta ponders his choices. _Will Kyoya-sama see my actions as those of a loyal employee or simply another betrayal by his father? Will it benefit him or hurt him further without cause?_

The sound of good spirits is heard in the rooms beyond and they gather their coats, prepared to escort Kyoya and his companion home. In the foyer, they meet up with the couple and Fuyumi. All are wearing casual clothing. It's no surprise for Kyoya, who maintains a room and modest wardrobe here, but Fujioka is wearng a turtleneck sweater and slacks Hotta has seen worn by Fuyumi. Skate bags are beside the elevator. _  
_

Fuyumi approaches in another fur, this one an electric blue jacket. "Could you please take us to Meiji Jingu? We'd like to skate tonight."

"Very good, Shido-sama."

Fuyumi turns back to where Kyoya is helping Haruhi don her coat. "Haru-chan, will you be warm enough in that?"

"I'm fine," says Haruhi.

"She's better than fine," adds Kyoya looking at her as he tucks in her scarf and toggles her buttons. "She's fantastic."

Hotta takes the bags and precedes the others in order to fetch the car. _So...no harm, no foul. And if Kyoya is happy with his young lady, then all is well._

_Wait._

_Fujioka-sama is a young lady?_

_Whoa!_

End - Chapter 46 - One Life

* * *

One Life by James Morrison [Hotta-centric]

When I was a young boy,  
I was living for the moment.  
The world was wide open.  
I had every choice.  
With so many choices  
I just didn't know what to do, now.

All I'd say is forget it  
When you tell me I'll regret it.  
Let it be what it is  
'Cause it's so easy to say…

BRIDGE  
If I knew yesterday what I know today  
Where would I be tomorrow?  
Won't let my soul slide away.  
I'll do whatever it takes  
'Cause this time's only borrowed.

CHORUS  
I got one life, one life, one life  
And I'm gonna live it.  
I got one life, one life, one life  
And I'm gonna live it right.

My daddy sat me down.  
He said, "Son, it's probably time to start making some plans."  
I said, "No, not right now."  
With so many choices  
I just didn't know what to do, now.

All I'd say is forget it  
When you tell me I'll regret it.  
Let it be what it is  
'Cause it's so easy to say…

BRIDGE & CHORUS

They say the more you think  
You know what's right,  
The less you do  
What you feel inside.  
So I won't pretend that I always know.  
I just follow my heart wherever it goes  
And I may not always get it right  
But at least I'm living, 'cause I've only got this…

One life, one life.  
I've got this one life. Hmm.

BRIDGE & CHORUS

When I'm an old man,  
Hope I'll be rocking in my chair,  
Smiling to myself.  
I'll tell my baby girl  
You only got one life  
So make sure you live it right.


	47. The Gift

With Haruhi safely ensconced in the back of the Mercedes, Kyoya follows until he's nestled beside her. Despite the angst of unanswered questions, the memory of Haruhi's soft skin beneath his touch has sharpened his desire. His usual devices for keeping himself in check seem to be of little help when the privacy partition rises and he is alone with the girl he loves once more. It's only the morphing of Ootori Yoshio into the Kamaitaichi, with Yuuichi and Akito rounding out the trio of demonic weasels prepared to cut off Haruhi's and his legs, that shifts prurience to protectiveness along with a reminder that they are probably being observed in some fashion.

_I'm sure my father coerced someone on my team to keep tabs on me; Hotta most likely. He owes a great deal to my father and he's on The Ootori Group's payroll. Business is business, after all, but nothing like what happened with Tamaki is ever going to happen again, so my father can chill out, if he can. I will have to be cautious, though, until I figure this out.  
_

He heaves a sigh and hears Haruhi's voice beside him asking, "You okay?" and he looks down into her kind eyes.

"As long as you're with me, I'm fine." She accepts the compliment easily, much to his satisfaction, then presses her head against his chest as he leans his own against hers.

 _Such a strange day, but not without merit. I know I have to tell Haruhi what happened, but how? And when? Sooner is better and if I read her right, she's willing to forgive and forget as long as I do. But just exactly how do I tell her that Tamaki and I fooled around but it didn't mean anything? Because it did, even if only to reveal something about myself to myself. What I do know is that the only person I want is her._ A rare feeling of contentment sweeps through him. _I must thank Fuyumi for giving us a chance to be together tonight._ The word "giving" prompts a soft, "Ah," from him.

"What's this?" Haruhi queries, her brow wrinkling as Kyoya rummages in the right pocket of the red and black paisley Givenchy parka he now wears, extracting an oblong package, elegantly wrapped in stiff paper, the top bedecked with a single red origami rose blossom.

"This," he replies, "is for you. A small token of my appreciation."

"But we've only been on one date."

"I told you I don't do things half-way, Haruhi. Please accept it. It would please me."

Haruhi pulls her right hand from his left and takes the package in hand. "It's beautiful and I don't even know what's inside."

"There's a simple solution to that."

Biting her lip, Haruhi examines the package from multiple angles, just as she did with the tableware earlier, turning it this way and that to admire the complex and delicate wrapping. She removes the rose first, which is connected by a few clever tab inserts, and lays it in her lap. Carefully, she peels away the paper until she sees the white gift box inscribed with the name Mikimoto and stops.

"Kyoya," she says, hesitating.

"Is something wrong?"

"This is Mikimoto."

"Yes. I thought it suited you."

"But- it's Mikimoto. I'm sure it's way too expensive and I really shouldn't accept such an expensive gift from you so soon in our relationship."

Kyoya leans in and places a kiss on her forehead followed by his murmured, "Have you forgotten that our relationship is nearly a year old?"

She pulls away slightly and meets his eyes. "Is it? I mean, we weren't exactly friends when I first joined the Club and then we were and now…now we're…"

"Dating? A couple? I'm hoping that's what you think because I do." She looks back at the box, still unopened. Kyoya reaches over and tips her chin up so that she's looking at him again. "If you're thinking that I'm expecting anything from you other than your company, I do." He hears her soft intake of breath before adding, "But only when you want it, too."

"Like earlier tonight when we…"

He presses his forehead to hers. "Got to know one another better?" he whispers and a breath shudders through her.

"Yes," comes her own whispered reply.

"You seemed to like it," he murmurs.

"I did."

"Then," he cajoles, "as long as we both enjoy it, let's just let things unfold."

Their faces are so close Kyoya can see the brown irises of her eyes ringed by a darker shade that is nearly black. They hold an odd intensity and she seems about to speak when he adds in a casual manner, "If it makes it easier for you, think of this as an early birthday gift."

"But I told everyone-"

"Everyone isn't your boyfriend and I am." He pauses. "Unless, of course, I'm not."

Their eyes hold a few seconds longer and then she nods. He pulls back with reluctance as she lifts the top of the box, revealing yet another case, this one black velvet. Haruhi's hands are slightly trembling. _I know she's heard claims of love from schoolboys before, but can this really be the first romantic gift she's ever gotten? How sweet she is; I could eat her up entire._

"Oh!" comes a small sough of surprise from the delicacy in question and he recovers himself.

"It reminds me of the day we met at the mall. Do you recall?"

Haruhi tips her head to one side and glances up from the sides of her eyes in perfect Host mode. "Do I? Absolutely. I just didn't think you did."

"I recall a great many things, Haruhi, especially when they pertain to you."

She looks down at the pendant that shimmers in the ambient light. A white gold chain dips into a vee where a leaf-shaped charm made from the same precious metal finished to satiny smoothness rests, its undulating contours rising to the apex where a slim diagonal bar tops the serpentine form before meeting the back stem of the leaf, creating an open loop that allows the charm to float freely. Diamond baguettes encrust the diagonal as it points upwards towards a single, perfect black pearl held stationary on the chain two inches above.

"It's beautiful," she proclaims softly. "But it really is too expensive for me to accept."

 _Practical thinker, as always._ "I think you should know by now that when I say I want something, I tend to follow through immediately and completely. I wanted to give you something, noticed the shop and that, as one says, is that. As for the cost, it's really not so extravagant compared to some of the pieces I was tempted to purchase though, rest assured, one day you'll wear a strand of golden pearls from the South Seas instead of a single gem."

Haruhi leans closer into Kyoya and tips her face up to meet his. Still holding the open case, she kisses his lips softly. "Thank you, but I've blundered again by not having something for you."

"The only gift I require is yourself, just as you are."

"You mean as a girl posing as a boy?"

"I mean as Haruhi in all her guises."

Her face grows serious. "What do you mean - guises?"

"To be honest, I'm never quite sure which Haruhi I'm going to meet at any given time - the poser as you say, the Host, the common sense commoner, the charming companion, the top of Class 1-A, the promising law student-to-be or the simple beauty with a kind heart. Your facets are what I find fascinating, just like the diamonds on this pendant."

He separates the necklace from its case, holding it aloft in one hand, allowing the charm to swing gently. The lights of passing cars and other sources of illumination refract the diamonds into sparkling shards. "See how the pendant changes with every angle of movement and light, yet always remains constant to itself - a thing of worth and beauty that always delights."

He looks back at her and sees a wry smile on her lips and a unique warmth in her eyes, a warmth he realizes is for him and him alone, without any trace of the coquette that manipulates or the haughtiness of the snobbish girls he's known for years or met at high society functions. She is everything he never knew he wanted and now he wants it all. _  
_

"Is this pearl from the South Seas?" she asks, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes, and much finer than those we saw at the mall that day," he states. _Showing off again, Ootori?_ "I thought you'd like the contrast, yin and yang as it were, like we are, kept close to your heart as a reminder that despite outward differences, we also share similarities."

"I like that thought. So if you're the Shadow King, what does that make me?"

He cups her cheek with one hand. "You, Haruhi, are the queen who has captured my heart."

"Now that's a host line if ever there was one," she chides.

"But no less true," he says with seriousness. "I want to give you things you've never had, protect you from anyone or anything that would harm you and, well, I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"Not even Tamaki-senpai?"

Kyoya's eyes widen and he pulls back in surprise, his mouth slightly ajar. He recognizes equal surprise in Haruhi, even as the words are said, for having said them. For a few moments he forgets how to breathe and how to think. His hand drops and his mouth closes as he looks away, much as he did on Friday night when Tamaki's feelings were made known to him.

_So this is when and where I tell her the truth, then._

His usual bold approach to life fades as hesitation overcomes him in an unusually powerful wave. His eyes blink several times and he licks his lips which have gone dry. The unfamiliar emotion of doubt riddles him with equally unfamiliar insecurity. _This is what most people feel about things, isn't it? This is what caring about someone else's opinion does to you. This is what I've avoided for so long and now? Now I'm no longer immune._ His brow wrinkles and his face lowers.

"Do you love him?" he hears her ask.

 _Always blunt and always fearless. I couldn't love anyone other than you._ He wants to say it, but doesn't. Instead, he offers, "Not in the way he thinks, or you." A pause. "We've had... experiences together and you know Tamaki. Impetuous to a fault, in every way."

"Is he gay?"

"He says he is and I agree."

"What about you?"

His head jerks up and his shoulders square. "No. But if I'm to be honest with you, I can't say I've never been attracted to him because I have. I suppose I didn't want to admit that to myself because I didn't believe I'd ever love anyone and he was the first one to accept me when I couldn't even accept myself."

She takes in a breath and releases it. "Were you ever, you know, together? Like lovers?"

She holds his gaze and he's stunned by her frankness. Impressed and determined to equal her determination to uncover the truth, his words come haltingly as he struggles to voice his feelings while the pit in his stomach tells him that this is a make-or-break moment for them, even with his gift and his heart in her hand.

"Once- but- never again. Tamaki is my best friend and- whether or not that will always be the case is- unpredictable. I hope that we are, just as I hope that you and I- have a future together."

"Do we?" Her words are just breath and her visage troubled.

"There are, as you've said before, forces working against us, not the least of which is ourselves. But, I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side."

Silence ensues and she looks away. He can't tell how she's feeling or what she's thinking and the uncertainty of "them" fills him with dread. And then she says his name while staring out the car window.

"Yes?"

"Simplify."

He considers her request, the word precise as ever. "That's best, isn't it?"

"It's straightforward."

He soughs a breath. "I'm afraid that's your forte, not mine."

She turns back and reaches up to brush a few stray bangs away from his face, her touch causing him to close his eyes and relax his shoulders. "You keep so much hidden away. You try to make everyone think you've got it all figured out when, really, you're just as muddled as the rest of us."

"It's no more than I can handle."

Her index finger covers his mouth and he opens his eyes. "Shhh. Will you let me in? Let me share some of your burden?"

"How could you possibly?" _You have no idea what you're asking._

Her hand snakes around his neck and draws him closer until their faces are inches apart. A slight sheen of moisture coats her eyes as she promises, "By listening to what you have to say without judging. By supporting you in whatever you want to do without complaining. But also to be honest when we differ and I expect the same from you."

"Haru-"

"So here's how it going to go." Her sudden definitiveness quiets him as she pulls back and sets the jewelry case and its box into his lap. "I want you to keep this birthday gift for now, at least until my birthday. And I want to talk to Tamaki - just him and me - so he knows that I understand what happened, whatever it was, and that I'm still his friend."

 _And utterly, impossibly amazing. I'm not sure if she's really fine with all this, but she seems to be, for now, and that's enough._ A weight feels lifted from his shoulders and he lapses into general conversation. "How did he seem at Club today? I've been avoiding his text messages."

"Oh please," she suddenly groans. "I'm sick and tired of texts today."

"Good, because I'd like to keep the world at bay for the rest of the night and focus only on you, if that's alright."

"You'd turn off your phone for me?" She sounds amazed.

That earns her a wry smile. "I can live without my electronics - briefly, to be sure. The markets can wait and so can the Host Club. So can the world - for you, Haruhi, and only you."

A satisfied smile graces Haruhi's features. "You know, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she says.

Kyoya places the pendant back into its box, securing the wrapping before handing it back to Haruhi. "Please keep this until you feel it's the appropriate time to wear it. It's yours."

She waits a moment, then takes the box and tucks it into the left pocket of her coat, keeping her hip clear of the car door so as not to crush it. "Thank you," she says looking back at her beau. "For everything today. The drive to school, the tea, the song, dinner at your sister's house and, most of all - thank you for being honest with me. That's the best gift you can ever give me."

"I'm glad you liked the song. My brother, Akito, is a metal fan. Metallica happens to be my favorite band in the genre and I wanted to share it."

"Like your affinity for German and the finer things of life?" Kyoya uncharacteristically shrugs. "I could get used to it, though I'll never see the lifestyle as ordinary, as you do."

"Understandable, but you will let me spoil you, won't you?"

"You can try."

"So I shall."

The car pulls into the parking lot of the skating venue and Haruhi notices lots of vehicles leaving. "Are we too late?" she asks with disappointment.

"Probably, although we won't be skating with the general public."

"Oh?" Haruhi's eyebrows lift.

"My sister, you may recall, is a world-class skater and this venue has served her needs for many years. My family partially financed the building of this edifice in return for her unlimited use, as well as serving as an arena for other ice sports. It's a remarkable work of architecture that serves multiple purposes."

"And the proceeds from the entry fees? Who gets those?" Her question irritates him a wee bit.

"Some goes to the City of Tokyo, naturally, though most goes to its owner with a percentage funneled back into The Ootori Group so they might continue investing in other health-related venues for the general population."

"Of course," Haruhi says as if it should be assumed.

"Don't you think my family should derive some benefit from its generosity?" His tone is mildly confrontational.

"Yes, but it seems that your family's generosity has been earned by many people who work for much less money to make that profit happen."

"Yes, they do," he capitulates. "And providing jobs is a worthwhile endeavor for any corporation with an interest in the welfare of the state."

She considers his words then says, "You're right. Guess we still have a lot to learn about one another."

"I look forward to it," he says, his eyes suggesting many things to the girl who returns his gaze with equal interest.

They watch one another just for the simple pleasure of doing so and as the seconds click by, a slow smile graces each of their faces until, all at once, they fall into mutual soft laughter. the tensions of the day released.

This is how Tachibana finds them as he opens the door on Haruhi's side. He extends his hand and she takes it, allowing him to assist her. She turns and extends her own to Kyoya who looks at her pointedly before taking it and allowing her to assist him. _Whether I need it or not, eh?_ But, strangely, he likes it. Ahead of them they see Fuyumi exiting from her own vehicle parked ahead of them. Shinji is with her.

Haruhi's surprise couldn't be greater as she turns and looks at Kyoya. "Is that-?"

"Shinji-san, yes. He's the Shidos' part-time manservant and Fuyumi's bodyguard. He's been with her since she was a child."

"But he's -"

"Sixty-seven and a retired military man. I wouldn't place bets on a match between him and Tachibana, if I were you."

Haruhi sighs aloud. "Curiouser and curiouser," she says bringing back to mind the bits of Lewis Carroll shared earlier in the evening.

Kyoya takes her hand and they head towards the simple metal door. They enter with Shinji waving a familiar greeting to an attendant before they pass through a secondary red door that leads them down a short flight of stairs into a wide corridor. Fuyumi and Shinji precede them with Haruhi between his sister and himself. Gazing at her from behind, his eyes can't help but take in her form entire and though shrouded in a thick woolen coat, his memories remember what lies beneath - body, mind and soul.

_I've fallen in love with you, Fujioka Haruhi, and I will not be dissuaded. I just wonder how your conversation with my best friend will go and when the right time will be for_ _ us _ _to get to know one another as well as Tamaki and I did. And, closer still. I do hope it's verrry soon._

End - Chapter 47 - The Gift

* * *

The Gift \- by Angels and Airwaves [Kyoya-centric]

There's the strangest excitement today.  
If you're awake, then you're welcome to hear.  
I got a gift and it blew me away  
from the far eastern sea straight to here.  
Oh God, I feel like I'm in for it now.  
It's like the rush has gone straight to my brain.  
But my voice is as lonely as loud  
as I whisper the joy of this pain.

BRIDGE  
And suddenly, you've done it all.  
You've won me over in no time at all.

CHORUS  
(And now) I'll stop the storm if it rains.  
I'll light a path far from here.  
I'll make your fear melt away  
And the world we know disappear.

If you ask, I will do what you say  
(All we have is this night to get through).  
With a twist of your smile, your own way.  
You left me all up in arms and confused.  
Oh God, I feel like I'm in for it now  
And how this kiss will be wonderfully vain.  
I swear I'll melt if you touch me at all,  
but then I'll ask you to do it again and again.

BRIDGE

CHORUS (2x)

Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, now. (4x)

CHORUS (2x)

Make the world we know disappear.

Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, now. (4x)


	48. Now

The expanse of white surrounded by dark viewing stands fills Haruhi's sightline. _I never realized this place was so darn big._ Accustomed as she is to a mass of humanity sharing space with her, its very emptiness reminds her of a blank canvas waiting for a brush to make its mark.

Fuyumi is one such tool. Her graceful movements belie the power and control beneath and she seems to fill the arena with her presence, even without an audience. With only one side of the rink lit, Haruhi spies the contrasting etchings Fuyumi leaves on the frozen surface. Like lace being tatted, Fuyumi carves curves and spirals in irregular patterns across the ice. Shinji skates with precision nearby. Tachibana watches from the sideline.

Kyoya, meanwhile, is moving smoothly around the perimeter, his hands clasped behind his back to reduce air resistance. Suddenly, he speeds up and extends his arms just before he reaches the patch where Haruhi stands. He executes a jump, a single, and Haruhi is both surprised and charmed. He skates towards her, sliding in on the sides of his skates, a wave of sheared ice flying ahead of him.

"Want to learn how?" he asks, his breath fogging the air between them.

"No," she retorts. "I'm fine as I am."

"Oh, come now. Allow me to teach you a thing or two." He tips his head with a sideways glance. "Or are you scared?"

"Not scared, just practical. I haven't had the benefit of professional lessons and I'm sure you have." He's skating around her in a repeating circle as they chat.

"A dozen at best. Skating is Fuyumi's gig, not mine, though it does appeal to my love of Physics." Haruhi has to keep re-balancing as she turns her head this way and that to keep her eyes on him. "I'll keep it simple," he promises.

Unwilling to appear weak, she says, "Let's go," and Kyoya takes her hand and tugs her towards the center of the rink. The sensation of sharp blades biting into fresh ice revives itself in Haruhi's memories. Her balance is shaky and she shuffles along, determined to stay upright. _I'll never hear the end of it unless I do._ Meanwhile, Kyoya has let go of her and is skating backwards, hands extended towards her.

"Forget it. I got this."

"You got this, you say? Then it's time for Lesson One." And with that he nears and grabs both of her hands, pulling her along quicker than she'd prefer.

"Kyoya! What are you doing?"

"Skating, I think," he jibes. "You said you wanted to learn something new."

"I do, I just - whoa! - haven't done this in awhile. Gimme a small break, okay?"

Without a word, he falls in line beside her, her small hand ensconced within his larger. Once around the rink and Haruhi's confidence grows. The second time around, Kyoya moves closer, settling his hand around her back to rest on her waist. "I really am fine," she tells him. "You don't have to stay with me. Bust a move, Ootori."

"Bust a move?" comes the incredulous response. "Where on earth did you hear that?"

"Renge. She knows all the lingo - Japanese, French, British _and_ American." Haruhi's hand sends flourishes into the brisk air.

"A veritable encyclopedia of impertinent information."

"Renge's okay."

"I'll grant she has her moments. Now, as for our lesson - are you ready?"

"Will we fall?"

"Risk goes with the territory, Haruhi, but the greater the risk, the greater the gain."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now hold out your arms on either side." Haruhi does so, feeling silly and nervous at the same time. "Stay balanced and trust me, okay?"

"Where are you going?" she asks, as Kyoya skates in front and then behind her, out of sight.

"I want you to skate forward, moderate speed, if you can," he calls to her. "I'm going to count to three and approach your back. On three, I'm going to pick you up. Go with it."

"Are you kidding me?" she yells to him. "I think we should talk about this." But she's moving, as instructed.

From behind her she hears his voice approaching, "One…two…"

"Ky-o-ya!"

"Three!" and she's lifted a foot off the ice by Kyoya's hands planted firmly just beneath her armpits. She stiffens to hold her weight and her breath. He sets her down after they've traveled only a few feet and keeps his hands strong and stationary until he's sure she's re-balanced. She wobbles once or twice but remains upright.

She's breathing heavily and doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry. Kyoya is smiling broadly as he skates back to meet her. "Did you like that?" he asks.

In answer, she starts pounding on his chest with her fists. "You incredible moron! You scared me half to death. I could have fallen and broken a bone and then where would I be? Where would you be if you fell? I hate you, Kyoya. I hate you!"

But he just laughs, bringing her close against him to stop her fists and in the process, they both lose their balance and fall to the ice, at which point Haruhi joins Kyoya in laughing at their bumbling efforts, their limbs intertwined.

With his face above hers he says, "It seems you've fallen for me, after all."

"You really have been hanging around Tamaki-senpai way too long," Haruhi quips, but their eyes stay locked in a moment of memory, a quickened heartbeat between them until Shinji skates by.

"Uwaa. Is this some new technique? Ah, to be young again," he jests before skating away.

The two teens smile at one another, then help one another stand. When they finally manage to remain upright and to breathe normally, Kyoya asks, "Want to go again?"

"No! Absolutely not! Now go - skate!"

Releasing her, he slides ahead then turns, continuing to move backwards on a single blade. "You're not getting rid of me that quickly, Fujioka. Remember that." A barely perceptible wink is tossed her way and then he's off.

Haruhi watches him, an amused smile on her face, remembering that the last time he'd winked at her was after he'd teased her about being interested in helping her "become a woman" several weeks ago. Then, she'd been a little embarrassed. Now, she thinks, _I may just take you up on that._

She stops to watch Kyoya as he joins Fuyumi, the two of them chatting easily. _She's like a second mom to him._ Her smile fades. _At least I understand, now, why he doesn't like to talk about his mother. It must be painful, maybe even more than if she were really gone, like Mom. I don't know how I'd feel if she were so sick she couldn't be nearby or worse, Dad being so lonely he couldn't stand it._

She looks back to the Ootori siblings and thinks how lucky, in some ways, she really is. Finally, she begins to skate again and, feeling emboldened by the move she's just executed, begins to speed up.

**Thirty minutes later…**

"All I know is that one minute she was skating and the next, she was down and couldn't get up," explains Fuyumi to Yuuichi, who is finessing Haruhi's ankle in an elastic bandage.

A small group of Ootori surround the petite brunette in the dressing room where Haruhi is sitting on the bench, her right leg extended along its length. She's leaning back into Kyoya seated beside her, his arm bracing them both as the other holds her hand beneath Fuyumi's fur jacket draped across her upper torso.

Haruhi whimpers once and Kyoya pipes up, "Do be careful, Brother. This isn't a headcase, but a flesh-and-blood girl."

Without looking up, Yuuichi comments, "I think I can handle a sprained ankle. And please refrain from coarseness. It's unbecoming of an Ootori."

"It would seem that such a caveat applies only to offspring, given the news of our father's latest escapade. That doesn't strike you as hypocritical?"

The elder Ootori lifts his head, face serene though his eyes dart to Haruhi's before meeting Kyoya's. "I don't expect you to understand the complex life of a man like our father, but I'm reminding you, as your eldest brother and the next patriarch of the Ootori clan, to be aware that these are family matters to be kept within the family."

Haruhi feels Kyoya's hand release hers and form a fist, so she covers it with her own to soothe him. She drops her eyes at the authoritative tone in which Yuuichi speaks, _as though his place in the Ootori family is already decided and Kyoya is still a child._

She's about to say something when Fuyumi's voice interjects in an ameliorating fashion, "Yuuichi, Kyoya is merely expressing his opinion among trusted allies. That's acceptable, isn't it? Haruhi is a close friend of his and a new friend of mine. My instincts tell me she's trustworthy." She turns to Haruhi. "You wouldn't betray our trust with gossip, now would you?"

Haruhi flashes grateful eyes at her admirer and shakes her head before turning to Yuuichi. "You know, Ootori-sensei, I have these two friends, twins actually, and they once had a terrible argument. It got so bad they weren't speaking to one another and it made everyone around them unhappy to see them at odds. I have to say, I was glad when they made amends. I'm an only child, but I've always wanted brothers and sisters. I mean, even if I got angry with them from time to time, I'd be sure to remember how much I cared about them."

Fuyumi looks at each man, then says, "I couldn't have said it better myself. Thank you for reminding us that family harmony is a noble ideal."

The air is tense as Haruhi swings her injured right foot to the floor and sits up, handing the fur jacket to Fuyumi before leaning over to grab the socks tucked into her shoes by her feet. Fuyumi calls for Shinji and the older man sits seiza style in front of Haruhi and attempts to help her don her left sock and shoe, pausing as the girl insists, "I can do it, thank you." He stops and simply watches as she manages the task.

Kyoya, meanwhile, is rummaging through his sport bag, producing a pair of immaculate white crew socks, handing them to Shinji and gently pulling Haruhi back up by the shoulders. "Please allow the man to do his job," he informs.

Haruhi looks over her shoulder at Kyoya in disbelief, then quick acquiescence as she comprehends that he's serious. She looks to Shinji whose position and expression remain staid, then holds out her right foot, allowing him to slip both socks over her now chubby right foot.

"Thank you, Shinji-san. I didn't mean to insult you." The family servant merely nods and she returns the gesture before turning to Yuuichi. "And thank you, Ootori-sensei. I'm sorry to have called you away from your patients. I assure you that I'm good at keeping private matters, private."

The oldest Ootori gives her a smarmy smile. "So I understand. After all, you're a girl who dresses like a boy in order to entertain young ladies of wealth at Ouran Academy as part of a club run by Suoh Tamaki and my brother. Correct?"

"Is that relevant to anything?" Kyoya asks in annoyance at his brother's apparent knowledge and judgment of his activities.

Instead of recanting, Yuuichi focuses his attention on Haruhi in an unsettling manner. "I'm just curious as to why such a pretty girl would participate in such a frivolous undertaking to the point of keeping it a secret at large."

"That is a long story and my reasons are my own," answers Haruhi, unfazed by his compliment.

The psychiatrist muses on her statement, then sits back and says in an objective tone, "I might assume that you're confused about your gender or sublimating internal desires in an effort to explore an alternative lifestyle without raising suspicion while attending Ouran. Would I be wrong?"

Kyoya leans towards his brother and quietly warns, "Yes, you would be wrong. Haruhi is my girlfriend and I assure you, she's not confused about that sort of thing."

"I do have to admit that it's a bit surprising to see you with a younger girl, Kyoya. You usually go for older women."

Kyoya begins to stand, but Haruhi grips his forearm, urging him to stay in place.

"Kyoya," Fuyumi warns. "Yuuichi, please stop baiting him. You're both being childish. Haruhi, please don't mind them."

Kyoya seethes as Yuuichi arches his brow and stands. "Very well, for your sake, Fuyumi. I look forward to Haruhi attending another formal family dinner soon that I can actually attend. It would be nice to see her in a more elegant setting and no longer my patient, but simply a lovely dinner companion."

Haruhi swears she hears Kyoya growl beneath his breath, but he controls himself admirably. _What the heck is going on here?_

"I'd be honored, Ootori-sensei," Haruhi says. "Will I meet your wife, then?" Her innocent question smacks of a sharp comeback, eliciting a sly chuckle from Kyoya.

"Indeed," comes the stiff reply as the eldest Ootori son pulls a tablet from his bag and begins tapping. "It would seem, Kyoya, that you've finally managed to find a girl who's your match in wits. Congratulations."

"Haruhi is, in many ways, a remarkable young woman."

"I can see you're quite fond of her."

"Her welfare is important to me. Are there after-care instructions?"

"Of course."

"Please give them to me." Kyoya stands, extending his hand towards his brother.

"I will give them to Fujioka-san to give to her father," the physician remands and Haruhi unexpectedly chortles, regaining his attention. "Is that humorous to you?"

"Unh, no. It's just that I had a sudden vision of my friend, Tamaki-senpai, rushing in and grabbing them out of your hand."

"Oh my," Fuyumi says, breathing in relief at the easing of tensions. "If he were here, he certainly would be in a tizzy. I'm thinking, though, that your father really should know."

"He's at work, like I said. He won't be home until dawn."

"Fujioka-san," Yuichi states in an official manner, "Your injury may seem minor, but complications can still arise if one isn't careful. I'd rather you weren't alone tonight. Please contact him and I will go over the matter with him myself."

Haruhi groans and Fuyumi reminds, "You did say he's a worrier."

"Can't you just give them to me? He can't afford to miss work and I'm used to being alone."

"Then it's settled," Fuyumi says. "Tonight, you'll stay with us so I can be sure you keep that foot elevated."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"-say no," Kyoya finishes for her. "I think it's an excellent plan. Thank you, Fuyumi."

As they chat, the first-born heir to the medical industry giant has pulled out a handheld printer and sync cord, attaching it to the tablet. With one hand he enters information, presses a few buttons and tape begins scrolling out of the unit.

"Wow," Haruhi breathes in genuine surprise, upon noticing.

"It's a beta model," Yuichi explains, "for situations exactly like this. So you see, you've allowed me an opportunity to field test a new product. Thank you for that opportunity. I'll be sure to make our R&D team aware of its usefulness."

"Glad to help, I think." She sounds resigned, but a small smile graces her lips. "Seems funny that it should be just because I'm a klutz."

"Nonsense," Fuyumi objects.

"Well," says Kyoya. "She has toppled tables, dropped trays of expensive china and, of course, there's that Renaissance vase incident."

Yuuichi's brow wrinkles and Fuyumi presses her lips together to suppress her mirth. Haruhi throws an exasperated look at Kyoya, who merely smiles as he pushes at his eyeglasses. She turns back to Yuuichi. _At least they've calmed down. These Ootori are more emotional than I ever imagined._

The doctor tears a narrow paper strip from the printer and hands it to Haruhi. "It's a minor sprain but I would prefer you to be off your feet tomorrow and watching for lividity. If your ankle gets warm, take two Ootoral every four hours. If you feel dizzy, call me at once." He turns to his sister. "You'll be sure to keep an eye on her?"

"I'll take good care of her. She's a friend of the family now."

"Very well, but next time, Fuyumi, please specify that it isn't a dire emergency. I had visions of Kyoya passing out again and that would have been serious." His tone has become professional again, a fact Haruhi finds disconcerting considering how he acted only minutes ago. _Maybe the psychiatrist needs a psychiatrist?_

"I'm quite alright, Brother," Kyoya says, bringing her back to reality. "And Haruhi is, as well."

Yuuichi dons his ivory wool coat and pricey Loro Piana muffler. Gathering his belongings, Haruhi watches to see how the brothers take leave of one another. Their interactions have been chilly at best. Their farewell is equally stiff.

_Like colleagues instead of brothers. Yuuichi doesn't seem to be a terrible person, just a flirt. Tamaki-senpai flirts all the time and it doesn't mean a thing. Maybe Fuyumi is right about Kyoya being oversensitive. And as much as their family seems to thrive on competition, it must be a huge responsibility preparing to be the next head of clan. I wonder if he ever had other dreams for himself, like Kyoya does now. It would be sad to think he gave them up out of obligation._

"Earth to Haruhi, what are you thinking about?" Kyoya asks, bending to place his mouth close to her ear. She harkens to his voice and tips her face towards his.

"Me?" she replies. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

He nods, then looks to his sister. "We should head home."

They bundle up against the cold. Haruhi stands and allows Kyoya to help her with her coat. She takes a step, feeling as wobbly as when she was on her skates. Kyoya is there at once, supporting her. "Perhaps you shouldn't walk on that foot."

"I'm okay, really. I'm-"

"Being taken care of without an argument, thank you," he replies and picks her up, bridal style. "Shinji-san, if you'll take the bags, I'll take care of Fujioka-san."

"Very good," the older man says and the group proceeds to the waiting vehicles at the curb outside.

Haruhi is weary, body and soul; but, somehow, being carried by Kyoya is both comforting and exciting. _So different from when Mori-senpai carried me in the Tropical Aqua Garden. It was sweet, but I knew he was just being a gentleman. Tamaki-senpai's rescue in Okinawa was brave, but he would have done the same for anyone. Now Kyoya? He isn't the strongest, the funniest nor the most generous boy I know, but we fit together just right. Maybe in every way?_ She smiles at the thought, images of the two of them doing what men and women do warming her blood.

Tachibana helps Kyoya get Haruhi situated in the car, closing the door after Kyoya follows. Once inside, with the privacy divider up and the radio on, Haruhi heaves a great sigh.

"How are you doing?" asks Kyoya, covering her lap with a soft cashmere throw pulled from the deck behind them.

"I've been better," comes the honest answer. "But really, I don't want to put your sister to any trouble. Please tell Hotta-san to take me home."

"That I will not do. My brother would be justifiably irate if his instructions weren't followed and though his ire isn't something I worry about, I won't risk your health."

"But it's just a minor sprain. I'll be fine in a day."

"Even casual injuries can lead to serious complications and that must be prevented. Besides, it's no trouble to Fuyumi. She's always having guests stay over, usually when they've imbibed too much sake at one of her karaoke parties."

"That sounds like her."

"So there'll be no more objecting tonight." His statement is declarative and Haruhi no longer argues. Instead, she leans in and rests her head against his chest, his arms encircling her.

In a tired voice she says, "Thank you for taking care of me and even getting jealous over your brother's teasing. Somehow, you make me feel safe no matter where we are."

"Do I?"

"Pretty strange when you consider that you're called the Shadow King and I was a little intimidated by you when we first met."

"Only a little?"

"Yet here we are," Haruhi says lifting her face, her eyes wide. She blinks slowly and wets her lips in invitation. A hand rises to cradle the side of her face and keeps her near as his lips take hers, moving slowly and softly, but thoroughly.

Unlike their earlier caresses, where she allowed him to lead, Haruhi's need for contact overrides inhibition and she clutches the front of Kyoya's jacket, pulling him closer and pressing into him, running her hand around his neck and through his hair. He responds to her hunger, allowing himself to be seduced, encouraging her assertiveness by edging back so that she has to move forward to re-capture his mouth.

The sensations generated within her body are wondrous and increasingly familiar to her, but she wants more. She moves closer and her ankle twinges. Wimpering, she pulls back.

"You okay?" Kyoya asks, breathless, keeping her in his arms.

"Maybe."

He sighs and pulls away. "We should be careful."

"I suppose," she commiserates and they resettle into a comfortable embrace.

The music system plays the same song she listened to that morning, reminding them of the message Kyoya purposely intended. Nothing else matters. Haruhi reflects, then in a sleepy voice says, "I'm glad you told me about Tamaki-senpai. It was pretty funny that your brother thought I might be queer, isn't it? I mean, teens do experiment with stuff like that and for some, it's really who they are. Like Tamaki-senpai. I can understand how close you two must have become when he first arrived. It was…" Yawn. "…only natural for you to explore though I have a feeling hei was the instigator, especially in middle school."

Silence ensues for several blocks until Kyoya finally says, "About that," then pauses. "You're right about Tamaki pushing things, but we weren't in middle school. In fact, it was pretty recent. We were a buzzed and he came out and on to me. It was unexpected, though he's been giving signs of it since I've known him. All that romantic nonsense he spews was his way of avoiding the truth, until he couldn't. But rest assured, I told him this morning that all I want is friendship. I think he gets it. I hope he does because the only person I'm interested in romantically, or otherwise, is you."

When there's no response, Kyoya tips his head down to see Haruhi's sleeping face. How much or how little she's heard of his speech is unknown, but one thing is clear: Haruhi has accepted his rendezvous with Tamaki and whether in the distant or near past, her open-mindedness and open heart convince Kyoya that she is, indeed, someone he wants to keep in his life.

He presses the top of his head against hers. "I've never been a sentimental sort of person," he murmurs so no one but Haruhi and himself might discern his words. "But," he continues, "I know what I know and I feel what I feel. It seems I'm quite in love with you and I will fight anyone who tries to come between us whether it's our parents, our friends or fate itself."

The smooth movement of the vehicle lulls him much like it has Haruhi and he closes his eyes. And there, whether in reality or in dream, he hears Haruhi's voice drift upwards from where her face is nestled against him. She says only two words, but they fill his chest with an rare, aching warmth.

"Me, too."

End - Chapter 49 - Balance

* * *

Balance by Joelle [Haruhi-centric]

We're all fine. No, it doesn't matter where we are.  
The fate of our hearts was decided for us by the gods.  
This some traditional love is unconditional.  
Eye to eye, it's more then metaphysical.  
We could hide, but it's written for us in the stars.

We need the bad times to find the better.  
We see the clear skies through cloudy weather.  
Could be apart but we're still together.

I know...

CHORUS

You are my balance.  
You are my balance. (You are my…)  
How can I fall when you're holding me up?  
You are my balance. (You are my…)

I trust in you when I'm spinning out of control.  
You guided me; helped me get in touch with my soul.  
We need the bad times to find the better.  
We see the clear skies through cloudy weather.  
Could be apart but we're still together.

I know...

CHORUS

You are my balance.

When I'm…I'm off my axis,  
I reach out…Reach for your balance.  
When I'm here…Here in your absence  
I still feel…Still feel your balance.

CHORUS


	49. Balance

The expanse of white surrounded by dark viewing stands fills Haruhi's sightline. _I never realized this place was so darn big._ Accustomed as she is to a mass of humanity sharing space with her, its very emptiness reminds her of a blank canvas waiting for a brush to make its mark.

Fuyumi is one such tool. Her graceful movements belie the power and control beneath and she seems to fill the arena with her presence, even without an audience. With only one side of the rink lit, Haruhi spies the contrasting etchings Fuyumi leaves on the frozen surface. Like lace being tatted, Fuyumi carves curves and spirals in irregular patterns across the ice. Shinji skates with precision nearby. Tachibana watches from the sideline.

Kyoya, meanwhile, is moving smoothly around the perimeter, his hands clasped behind his back to reduce air resistance. Suddenly, he speeds up and extends his arms just before he reaches the patch where Haruhi stands. He executes a jump, a single, and Haruhi is both surprised and charmed. He skates towards her, sliding in on the sides of his skates, a wave of sheared ice flying ahead of him.

"Want to learn how?" he asks, his breath fogging the air between them.

"No," she retorts. "I'm fine as I am."

"Oh, come now. Allow me to teach you a thing or two." He tips his head with a sideways glance. "Or are you scared?"

"Not scared, just practical. I haven't had the benefit of professional lessons and I'm sure you have." He's skating around her in a repeating circle as they chat.

"A dozen at best. Skating is Fuyumi's gig, not mine, though it does appeal to my love of Physics." Haruhi has to keep re-balancing as she turns her head this way and that to keep her eyes on him. "I'll keep it simple," he promises.

Unwilling to appear weak, she says, "Let's go," and Kyoya takes her hand and tugs her towards the center of the rink. The sensation of sharp blades biting into fresh ice revives itself in Haruhi's memories. Her balance is shaky and she shuffles along, determined to stay upright. _I'll never hear the end of it unless I do._ Meanwhile, Kyoya has let go of her and is skating backwards, hands extended towards her.

"Forget it. I got this."

"You got this, you say? Then it's time for Lesson One." And with that he nears and grabs both of her hands, pulling her along quicker than she'd prefer.

"Kyoya! What are you doing?"

"Skating, I think," he jibes. "You said you wanted to learn something new."

"I do, I just - whoa! - haven't done this in awhile. Gimme a small break, okay?"

Without a word, he falls in line beside her, her small hand ensconced within his larger. Once around the rink and Haruhi's confidence grows. The second time around, Kyoya moves closer, settling his hand around her back to rest on her waist. "I really am fine," she tells him. "You don't have to stay with me. Bust a move, Ootori."

"Bust a move?" comes the incredulous response. "Where on earth did you hear that?"

"Renge. She knows all the lingo - Japanese, French, British _and_ American." Haruhi's hand sends flourishes into the brisk air.

"A veritable encyclopedia of impertinent information."

"Renge's okay."

"I'll grant she has her moments. Now, as for our lesson - are you ready?"

"Will we fall?"

"Risk goes with the territory, Haruhi, but the greater the risk, the greater the gain."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now hold out your arms on either side." Haruhi does so, feeling silly and nervous at the same time. "Stay balanced and trust me, okay?"

"Where are you going?" she asks, as Kyoya skates in front and then behind her, out of sight.

"I want you to skate forward, moderate speed, if you can," he calls to her. "I'm going to count to three and approach your back. On three, I'm going to pick you up. Go with it."

"Are you kidding me?" she yells to him. "I think we should talk about this." But she's moving, as instructed.

From behind her she hears his voice approaching, "One…two…"

"Ky-o-ya!"

"Three!" and she's lifted a foot off the ice by Kyoya's hands planted firmly just beneath her armpits. She stiffens to hold her weight and her breath. He sets her down after they've traveled only a few feet and keeps his hands strong and stationary until he's sure she's re-balanced. She wobbles once or twice but remains upright.

She's breathing heavily and doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry. Kyoya is smiling broadly as he skates back to meet her. "Did you like that?" he asks.

In answer, she starts pounding on his chest with her fists. "You incredible moron! You scared me half to death. I could have fallen and broken a bone and then where would I be? Where would you be if you fell? I hate you, Kyoya. I hate you!"

But he just laughs, bringing her close against him to stop her fists and in the process, they both lose their balance and fall to the ice, at which point Haruhi joins Kyoya in laughing at their bumbling efforts, their limbs intertwined.

With his face above hers he says, "It seems you've fallen for me, after all."

"You really have been hanging around Tamaki-senpai way too long," Haruhi quips, but their eyes stay locked in a moment of memory, a quickened heartbeat between them until Shinji skates by.

"Uwaa. Is this some new technique? Ah, to be young again," he jests before skating away.

The two teens smile at one another, then help one another stand. When they finally manage to remain upright and to breathe normally, Kyoya asks, "Want to go again?"

"No! Absolutely not! Now go - skate!"

Releasing her, he slides ahead then turns, continuing to move backwards on a single blade. "You're not getting rid of me that quickly, Fujioka. Remember that." A barely perceptible wink is tossed her way and then he's off.

Haruhi watches him, an amused smile on her face, remembering that the last time he'd winked at her was after he'd teased her about being interested in helping her "become a woman" several weeks ago. Then, she'd been a little embarrassed. Now, she thinks, _I may just take you up on that._

She stops to watch Kyoya as he joins Fuyumi, the two of them chatting easily. _She's like a second mom to him._ Her smile fades. _At least I understand, now, why he doesn't like to talk about his mother. It must be painful, maybe even more than if she were really gone, like Mom. I don't know how I'd feel if she were so sick she couldn't be nearby or worse, Dad being so lonely he couldn't stand it._

She looks back to the Ootori siblings and thinks how lucky, in some ways, she really is. Finally, she begins to skate again and, feeling emboldened by the move she's just executed, begins to speed up.

**Thirty minutes later…**

"All I know is that one minute she was skating and the next, she was down and couldn't get up," explains Fuyumi to Yuuichi, who is finessing Haruhi's ankle in an elastic bandage.

A small group of Ootori surround the petite brunette in the dressing room where Haruhi is sitting on the bench, her right leg extended along its length. She's leaning back into Kyoya seated beside her, his arm bracing them both as the other holds her hand beneath Fuyumi's fur jacket draped across her upper torso.

Haruhi whimpers once and Kyoya pipes up, "Do be careful, Brother. This isn't a headcase, but a flesh-and-blood girl."

Without looking up, Yuuichi comments, "I think I can handle a sprained ankle. And please refrain from coarseness. It's unbecoming of an Ootori."

"It would seem that such a caveat applies only to offspring, given the news of our father's latest escapade. That doesn't strike you as hypocritical?"

The elder Ootori lifts his head, face serene though his eyes dart to Haruhi's before meeting Kyoya's. "I don't expect you to understand the complex life of a man like our father, but I'm reminding you, as your eldest brother and the next patriarch of the Ootori clan, to be aware that these are family matters to be kept within the family."

Haruhi feels Kyoya's hand release hers and form a fist, so she covers it with her own to soothe him. She drops her eyes at the authoritative tone in which Yuuichi speaks, _as though his place in the Ootori family is already decided and Kyoya is still a child._

She's about to say something when Fuyumi's voice interjects in an ameliorating fashion, "Yuuichi, Kyoya is merely expressing his opinion among trusted allies. That's acceptable, isn't it? Haruhi is a close friend of his and a new friend of mine. My instincts tell me she's trustworthy." She turns to Haruhi. "You wouldn't betray our trust with gossip, now would you?"

Haruhi flashes grateful eyes at her admirer and shakes her head before turning to Yuuichi. "You know, Ootori-sensei, I have these two friends, twins actually, and they once had a terrible argument. It got so bad they weren't speaking to one another and it made everyone around them unhappy to see them at odds. I have to say, I was glad when they made amends. I'm an only child, but I've always wanted brothers and sisters. I mean, even if I got angry with them from time to time, I'd be sure to remember how much I cared about them."

Fuyumi looks at each man, then says, "I couldn't have said it better myself. Thank you for reminding us that family harmony is a noble ideal."

The air is tense as Haruhi swings her injured right foot to the floor and sits up, handing the fur jacket to Fuyumi before leaning over to grab the socks tucked into her shoes by her feet. Fuyumi calls for Shinji and the older man sits seiza style in front of Haruhi and attempts to help her don her left sock and shoe, pausing as the girl insists, "I can do it, thank you." He stops and simply watches as she manages the task.

Kyoya, meanwhile, is rummaging through his sport bag, producing a pair of immaculate white crew socks, handing them to Shinji and gently pulling Haruhi back up by the shoulders. "Please allow the man to do his job," he informs.

Haruhi looks over her shoulder at Kyoya in disbelief, then quick acquiescence as she comprehends that he's serious. She looks to Shinji whose position and expression remain staid, then holds out her right foot, allowing him to slip both socks over her now chubby right foot.

"Thank you, Shinji-san. I didn't mean to insult you." The family servant merely nods and she returns the gesture before turning to Yuuichi. "And thank you, Ootori-sensei. I'm sorry to have called you away from your patients. I assure you that I'm good at keeping private matters, private."

The oldest Ootori gives her a smarmy smile. "So I understand. After all, you're a girl who dresses like a boy in order to entertain young ladies of wealth at Ouran Academy as part of a club run by Suoh Tamaki and my brother. Correct?"

"Is that relevant to anything?" Kyoya asks in annoyance at his brother's apparent knowledge and judgment of his activities.

Instead of recanting, Yuuichi focuses his attention on Haruhi in an unsettling manner. "I'm just curious as to why such a pretty girl would participate in such a frivolous undertaking to the point of keeping it a secret at large."

"That is a long story and my reasons are my own," answers Haruhi, unfazed by his compliment.

The psychiatrist muses on her statement, then sits back and says in an objective tone, "I might assume that you're confused about your gender or sublimating internal desires in an effort to explore an alternative lifestyle without raising suspicion while attending Ouran. Would I be wrong?"

Kyoya leans towards his brother and quietly warns, "Yes, you would be wrong. Haruhi is my girlfriend and I assure you, she's not confused about that sort of thing."

"I do have to admit that it's a bit surprising to see you with a younger girl, Kyoya. You usually go for older women."

Kyoya begins to stand, but Haruhi grips his forearm, urging him to stay in place.

"Kyoya," Fuyumi warns. "Yuuichi, please stop baiting him. You're both being childish. Haruhi, please don't mind them."

Kyoya seethes as Yuuichi arches his brow and stands. "Very well, for your sake, Fuyumi. I look forward to Haruhi attending another formal family dinner soon that I can actually attend. It would be nice to see her in a more elegant setting and no longer my patient, but simply a lovely dinner companion."

Haruhi swears she hears Kyoya growl beneath his breath, but he controls himself admirably. _What the heck is going on here?_

"I'd be honored, Ootori-sensei," Haruhi says. "Will I meet your wife, then?" Her innocent question smacks of a sharp comeback, eliciting a sly chuckle from Kyoya.

"Indeed," comes the stiff reply as the eldest Ootori son pulls a tablet from his bag and begins tapping. "It would seem, Kyoya, that you've finally managed to find a girl who's your match in wits. Congratulations."

"Haruhi is, in many ways, a remarkable young woman."

"I can see you're quite fond of her."

"Her welfare is important to me. Are there after-care instructions?"

"Of course."

"Please give them to me." Kyoya stands, extending his hand towards his brother.

"I will give them to Fujioka-san to give to her father," the physician remands and Haruhi unexpectedly chortles, regaining his attention. "Is that humorous to you?"

"Unh, no. It's just that I had a sudden vision of my friend, Tamaki-senpai, rushing in and grabbing them out of your hand."

"Oh my," Fuyumi says, breathing in relief at the easing of tensions. "If he were here, he certainly would be in a tizzy. I'm thinking, though, that your father really should know."

"He's at work, like I said. He won't be home until dawn."

"Fujioka-san," Yuichi states in an official manner, "Your injury may seem minor, but complications can still arise if one isn't careful. I'd rather you weren't alone tonight. Please contact him and I will go over the matter with him myself."

Haruhi groans and Fuyumi reminds, "You did say he's a worrier."

"Can't you just give them to me? He can't afford to miss work and I'm used to being alone."

"Then it's settled," Fuyumi says. "Tonight, you'll stay with us so I can be sure you keep that foot elevated."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"-say no," Kyoya finishes for her. "I think it's an excellent plan. Thank you, Fuyumi."

As they chat, the first-born heir to the medical industry giant has pulled out a handheld printer and sync cord, attaching it to the tablet. With one hand he enters information, presses a few buttons and tape begins scrolling out of the unit.

"Wow," Haruhi breathes in genuine surprise, upon noticing.

"It's a beta model," Yuichi explains, "for situations exactly like this. So you see, you've allowed me an opportunity to field test a new product. Thank you for that opportunity. I'll be sure to make our R&D team aware of its usefulness."

"Glad to help, I think." She sounds resigned, but a small smile graces her lips. "Seems funny that it should be just because I'm a klutz."

"Nonsense," Fuyumi objects.

"Well," says Kyoya. "She has toppled tables, dropped trays of expensive china and, of course, there's that Renaissance vase incident."

Yuuichi's brow wrinkles and Fuyumi presses her lips together to suppress her mirth. Haruhi throws an exasperated look at Kyoya, who merely smiles as he pushes at his eyeglasses. She turns back to Yuuichi. _At least they've calmed down. These Ootori are more emotional than I ever imagined._

The doctor tears a narrow paper strip from the printer and hands it to Haruhi. "It's a minor sprain but I would prefer you to be off your feet tomorrow and watching for lividity. If your ankle gets warm, take two Ootoral every four hours. If you feel dizzy, call me at once." He turns to his sister. "You'll be sure to keep an eye on her?"

"I'll take good care of her. She's a friend of the family now."

"Very well, but next time, Fuyumi, please specify that it isn't a dire emergency. I had visions of Kyoya passing out again and that would have been serious." His tone has become professional again, a fact Haruhi finds disconcerting considering how he acted only minutes ago. _Maybe the psychiatrist needs a psychiatrist?_

"I'm quite alright, Brother," Kyoya says, bringing her back to reality. "And Haruhi is, as well."

Yuuichi dons his ivory wool coat and pricey Loro Piana muffler. Gathering his belongings, Haruhi watches to see how the brothers take leave of one another. Their interactions have been chilly at best. Their farewell is equally stiff.

_Like colleagues instead of brothers. Yuuichi doesn't seem to be a terrible person, just a flirt. Tamaki-senpai flirts all the time and it doesn't mean a thing. Maybe Fuyumi is right about Kyoya being oversensitive. And as much as their family seems to thrive on competition, it must be a huge responsibility preparing to be the next head of clan. I wonder if he ever had other dreams for himself, like Kyoya does now. It would be sad to think he gave them up out of obligation._

"Earth to Haruhi, what are you thinking about?" Kyoya asks, bending to place his mouth close to her ear. She harkens to his voice and tips her face towards his.

"Me?" she replies. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

He nods, then looks to his sister. "We should head home."

They bundle up against the cold. Haruhi stands and allows Kyoya to help her with her coat. She takes a step, feeling as wobbly as when she was on her skates. Kyoya is there at once, supporting her. "Perhaps you shouldn't walk on that foot."

"I'm okay, really. I'm-"

"Being taken care of without an argument, thank you," he replies and picks her up, bridal style. "Shinji-san, if you'll take the bags, I'll take care of Fujioka-san."

"Very good," the older man says and the group proceeds to the waiting vehicles at the curb outside.

Haruhi is weary, body and soul; but, somehow, being carried by Kyoya is both comforting and exciting. _So different from when Mori-senpai carried me in the Tropical Aqua Garden. It was sweet, but I knew he was just being a gentleman. Tamaki-senpai's rescue in Okinawa was brave, but he would have done the same for anyone. Now Kyoya? He isn't the strongest, the funniest nor the most generous boy I know, but we fit together just right. Maybe in every way?_ She smiles at the thought, images of the two of them doing what men and women do warming her blood.

Tachibana helps Kyoya get Haruhi situated in the car, closing the door after Kyoya follows. Once inside, with the privacy divider up and the radio on, Haruhi heaves a great sigh.

"How are you doing?" asks Kyoya, covering her lap with a soft cashmere throw pulled from the deck behind them.

"I've been better," comes the honest answer. "But really, I don't want to put your sister to any trouble. Please tell Hotta-san to take me home."

"That I will not do. My brother would be justifiably irate if his instructions weren't followed and though his ire isn't something I worry about, I won't risk your health."

"But it's just a minor sprain. I'll be fine in a day."

"Even casual injuries can lead to serious complications and that must be prevented. Besides, it's no trouble to Fuyumi. She's always having guests stay over, usually when they've imbibed too much sake at one of her karaoke parties."

"That sounds like her."

"So there'll be no more objecting tonight." His statement is declarative and Haruhi no longer argues. Instead, she leans in and rests her head against his chest, his arms encircling her.

In a tired voice she says, "Thank you for taking care of me and even getting jealous over your brother's teasing. Somehow, you make me feel safe no matter where we are."

"Do I?"

"Pretty strange when you consider that you're called the Shadow King and I was a little intimidated by you when we first met."

"Only a little?"

"Yet here we are," Haruhi says lifting her face, her eyes wide. She blinks slowly and wets her lips in invitation. A hand rises to cradle the side of her face and keeps her near as his lips take hers, moving slowly and softly, but thoroughly.

Unlike their earlier caresses, where she allowed him to lead, Haruhi's need for contact overrides inhibition and she clutches the front of Kyoya's jacket, pulling him closer and pressing into him, running her hand around his neck and through his hair. He responds to her hunger, allowing himself to be seduced, encouraging her assertiveness by edging back so that she has to move forward to re-capture his mouth.

The sensations generated within her body are wondrous and increasingly familiar to her, but she wants more. She moves closer and her ankle twinges. Wimpering, she pulls back.

"You okay?" Kyoya asks, breathless, keeping her in his arms.

"Maybe."

He sighs and pulls away. "We should be careful."

"I suppose," she commiserates and they resettle into a comfortable embrace.

The music system plays the same song she listened to that morning, reminding them of the message Kyoya purposely intended. Nothing else matters. Haruhi reflects, then in a sleepy voice says, "I'm glad you told me about Tamaki-senpai. It was pretty funny that your brother thought I might be queer, isn't it? I mean, teens do experiment with stuff like that and for some, it's really who they are. Like Tamaki-senpai. I can understand how close you two must have become when he first arrived. It was…" Yawn. "…only natural for you to explore though I have a feeling hei was the instigator, especially in middle school."

Silence ensues for several blocks until Kyoya finally says, "About that," then pauses. "You're right about Tamaki pushing things, but we weren't in middle school. In fact, it was pretty recent. We were a buzzed and he came out and on to me. It was unexpected, though he's been giving signs of it since I've known him. All that romantic nonsense he spews was his way of avoiding the truth, until he couldn't. But rest assured, I told him this morning that all I want is friendship. I think he gets it. I hope he does because the only person I'm interested in romantically, or otherwise, is you."

When there's no response, Kyoya tips his head down to see Haruhi's sleeping face. How much or how little she's heard of his speech is unknown, but one thing is clear: Haruhi has accepted his rendezvous with Tamaki and whether in the distant or near past, her open-mindedness and open heart convince Kyoya that she is, indeed, someone he wants to keep in his life.

He presses the top of his head against hers. "I've never been a sentimental sort of person," he murmurs so no one but Haruhi and himself might discern his words. "But," he continues, "I know what I know and I feel what I feel. It seems I'm quite in love with you and I will fight anyone who tries to come between us whether it's our parents, our friends or fate itself."

The smooth movement of the vehicle lulls him much like it has Haruhi and he closes his eyes. And there, whether in reality or in dream, he hears Haruhi's voice drift upwards from where her face is nestled against him. She says only two words, but they fill his chest with an rare, aching warmth.

"Me, too."

End - Chapter 49 - Balance

* * *

Balance by Joelle [Haruhi-centric]

We're all fine. No, it doesn't matter where we are.  
The fate of our hearts was decided for us by the gods.  
This some traditional love is unconditional.  
Eye to eye, it's more then metaphysical.  
We could hide, but it's written for us in the stars.

We need the bad times to find the better.  
We see the clear skies through cloudy weather.  
Could be apart but we're still together.

I know...

CHORUS

You are my balance.  
You are my balance. (You are my…)  
How can I fall when you're holding me up?  
You are my balance. (You are my…)

I trust in you when I'm spinning out of control.  
You guided me; helped me get in touch with my soul.  
We need the bad times to find the better.  
We see the clear skies through cloudy weather.  
Could be apart but we're still together.

I know...

CHORUS

You are my balance.

When I'm…I'm off my axis,  
I reach out…Reach for your balance.  
When I'm here…Here in your absence  
I still feel…Still feel your balance.

CHORUS


	50. Mirrors

Returning to the penthouse, Kyoya allows Tachibana to carry Haruhi as he stays close by, chatting with her all the way. Once home, the skaters gather in front of the fireplace while Shinji scurries to the kitchen, returning with a tray of mugs filled with steaming hot cocoa.

As the ladies converse, Kyoya stares into the fire, its dancing flames mesmerzing as he sips his beverage _. Unsweetened, as I prefer. Unlike the day of the snowball fight when we served that awful instant powder. Tamaki liked it, of course. Tamaki. What am I going to do with you now? So much has happened in such brief space and more's to come, I'm sure. Just what are you going to tell Haruhi when she asks what happened between us? She's an accepting person, but you have a way of dramatizing things to an unreasonable degree and I wasn't there today to mitigate the drama._ He sighs. _  
_

"Are you alright?"

He looks to the two females, uncertain of who asked the question. They're both dear to him and clearly comfortable with one another. _How very like them_.

"I'm fine," he assures. "Just a bit tired."

"Then it's time to call it a day," Fuyumi says. "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping, Haruhi."

"You've been so kind, Fuyumi," says Haruhi. "Kyoya is lucky to have such a caring sibling."

"Oh, posh," Fuyumi objects. "It's what a big sister is for. Come along."

She stands and out of nowhere, Tachibana re-appears and assists with getting Haruhi upstairs. The guest room is a simple affair: a narrow shiki futon, nightstand with lamp and a wide writing desk against one wall, an architect's lamp shining onto piles of papers, books and binders between two equally stuffed bookcases.

"You must forgive Hiroshi, Haruhi. This is where he keeps his office and no one, _no one_ is allowed to touch a thing in here. My advice? Don't go near that salamagundi of a desk upon risk of death." She's joking, but only slightly.

"No problem," Haruhi agrees. "Funny thing is, I'm not all that tired anymore."

"I'm afraid there's no television in here," Fuyumi says.

"We could watch in my room for awhile," Kyoya suggests. _Among other things._

"Not too long," Fuyumi warns, eyes on her brother. "You have school in the morning."

"I'm quite aware of my responsibilities, Fuyumi, but you seem to forget that I operate on many less hours of sleep than most people."

"Oh, I'm aware, Kyoya, of that and of the fact that you're a total grouch in the morning because of it." The brunet looks over the tops of his glasses at his sister with a mild glare, but its effect on Fuyumi is miniscule, causing Haruhi to stifle an unwitting grin. "Breakfast is at seven," the heiress continues, "if you care to have something. Haruhi, you may have whatever you like when you awaken. I'll probably be at the health club, but I'll be back by ten. Is that favorable to you?"

Unaccustomed to people consulting her about her day or making plans around her schedule is a rare occurrence and a slightly unwanted one. However, not wanting to be rude, she replies, "Whatever you think best. I'll need to make some calls, though." She states the last with surety and noting Kyoya's expression adds, "To the twins. For my assignments."

"No point in arguing with you once you've made up your mind on something, though my anger with them is profound," Kyoya grouses.

"Well," Fuyumi says, "it's settled. Tachibana-san?" The white-haired bodyguard has been standing in the background, coming forward only when needed.

"I can-" Haruhi begins, finishing her sentence with "walk" after she's been lifted off the ground. The quartet heads down the corridor and into a larger bedroom at the far end. Setting Haruhi on her feet at the edge of the bed, Tachibana steps back to address Kyoya. "If you no longer need my services, Kyoya-sama?"

"No. I'll see you in the morning."

"Very good," comes the crisp reply. He's nearly at the door, following Fuyumi, when the young Ootori calls his name and he turns back.

"Thank you. Good night." If the man is surprised at the sudden pleasantry, he gives no indication. Nor does Kyoya see Fuyumi's small smile at the unusual gesture. And then, they're gone.

Haruhi looks around. "This is really nice."

Dark wood flooring contrasts with taupe colored walls, off-white ornate moldings and ebony wall-to-wall storage, an electronics niche in its center boasting a state-of-the-art entertainment center against a background of verdant grasscloth. The wall opposite displays a life-sized painted image of a mounted samurai warrior in colorful regalia, his yumi (bow) and yazutzu (quiver) matched in reality by the yumi resting on cushioned iron brackets to his right, a leather yazutzu hung below on an iron peg.

The full platform bed immediately below the warrior's steed is covered in fine white linens, a black duvet half-turned back with several fluffy pillows and crimson shams. Just beyond is a natural gauzy curtain partially drawn, behind which one sees a mahogany table and marine blue knitted pouf chair used for working or dining. The window it sits in front of is a single pane of glass mounted aslant to reveal the sky, now dark with nightfall running the length of wall to the bath. Opposite the window wall, above the leather upholstered bench bearing Kyoya's bookbag, is an elongated light panel, partitioned with rice paper, its soft light filling the room.

"I don't usually have guests" Kyoya begins, "so I'm afraid we'll have to sit on the bed, unless you object?" He looks at Haruhi who responds by sitting down and pushing back into the center of the bed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. _As simple as that?_ His pulse quickens, but he shows not a trace of excitement, his voice calm as he asks, "Do you care what we watch?"

"Whatever you like."

He voice activates the family entertainment channel and a popular drama appears. He lets it play, joining Haruhi on the bed, propping pillows and shams against the samurai's wall, relaxing into them. They watch like that for awhile, until Kyoya calls her name and she looks over her shoulder at him.

"Why don't you sit back?" he suggests. "I don't bite…much." His eyes are seductive, but all she does is give a little moue, reaching back with a hand to push at him. He grabs her wrist before it reaches him. "Now, now. You'll be asked to leave if you can't play nicely."

"Whose rules are we playing by?" she counters.

"I thought we might negotiate those," he teases, releasing her.

"Seems reasonable," she tosses off.

"Then come here," he says, his voice lower and softer. When she fails to comply, he adds, "If it pleases you."

She pushes back, leaning into the arm reaching around her shoulder, Kyoya's long legs outstretched beside her shorter ones, their stockinged feet pointing towards one another. Just beyond the foot of the bed, the television monitor glows, though not so warmly as the pair that watches it.

...

Forty minutes later, the two teens can be seen atop the well-appointed bed, the girl soft and slight against the left side of the tall, lean boy. Kyoya's legs are still outstretched, ankles crossed, one arm still around Haruhi, the other resting on his abdomen. She is angled towards him, her knees slightly tucked, one small hand splayed to cover his, her effort inadequate. Her eyes are closed while his are half-open. Their breathing is synchronized and a gentle smile graces her face while the boy's full mouth is relaxed.

Fuyumi and Hiroshi stand in the corridor at a distance, watching the young couple through the open doorway near the bench.

"What do you think we should do?" Hiroshi asks softly.

"Leave them be," comes the reply.

"What about Kyoya getting home?"

Fuyumi looks up at her spouse. "I expected him to stay from the moment he agreed to dinner. My father is on a tear with him, it seems."

"Again? I wish I understood my father-in-law better, but I'm afraid I simply don't. Kyo is an awesome young man."

"And as long as we can provide him with safe haven now and again, he'll be fine."

"What about the girl?"

"I've put her up in your 'office' for the night, if you can give up working."

"I can do that. Besides, I was about to go to bed anyway." He waggles his eyebrows and the heiress shakes her head at him with a pursed smile.

"Haruhi will use the futon for tonight," she says. "I've already shown her and given her nightclothes."

His brow arches. "You're not worried about what might happen while we sleep?"

Fuyumi shrugs. "What will happen, will happen. And I know my brother. He isn't ready for an Ootori heir yet. He'll be careful."

"And Haruhi? You're not concerned about her making allegations against him and us, as the adults?"

"Anata, kids are going to be kids."

"Kyoya is eighteen; hardly a kid."

"Yes, but he's practical and raised to be a gentleman. Besides, my parents are already thinking about likely prospects for his bride and yet, you see how he looks at her."

"Much as I looked at you when we first met, ne?" Fuyumi genuinely smiles and the large man draws her close. "Does her father know she's staying here?"

"He thanked me for looking after his precious daughter."

Hiroshi's next question is serious. "Doesn't that sound a little suspicious to you?"

"How so?"

"Haruhi doesn't seem to be a gold digger, but he may be another story."

"Perhaps, but I doubt her father's wishes are strictly her own. In that way, she and Kyoya are similar."

"Think she loves him?"

"She's fond of him, certainly. And though she's a commoner, she's bright, dedicated to paving her own way in life and people seem to like her. I know I did after only a short while."

"Don't forget pretty, though you, my Fuyumi, are beautiful."

"She is and, overall, a better match for my little brother than his last girlfriend."

"Momiji?"

"She may be your cousin-"

"Second, once removed," he corrects.

Fuyumi acknowledges Hiroshi's specificity, typical of wealth, with a nod. "Which may explain why she's so different from the rest of the Shido clan. I find her to be haughty and self-centered."

"I agree. Kyoya needs someone sweet-natured and grounded to help him loosen up. He's still too serious."

"Despite Tamaki's influence, though the boy has had an incredible effect on him. In a good way, of course, but not like this. Hiro, you should have seen his face soften when Haruhi appeared. I've never seen him act the way he does except with her."

"He's in love." Their gaze turns back to the couple.

"I think, for the first time in his life," Fuyumi agrees, her approval clear.

"It's nice to see."

"Then we must help them as much as we can," Fuyumi says with mild urgency.

"I believe you did a fair job of that tonight, koibito. Now," he says, turning her in the direction of their suite, "how about we do what we can to keep our romance alive?" He pulls out the large comb that has been holding her tresses in place and dark locks tumble onto her shoulders. Fuyumi leans back into her husband.

"Give me a few minutes head start, then come to bed," she tempts.

The gentle giant hums his approval and watches his wife recede down the hallway, a look of appreciation on his face. Turning back, he steps into the darkened room and calls Kyoya's name softly. The boy rises and meets Hiroshi in the doorway.

"How'd I do, my friend?" Hiroshi asks, sotto voce.

"Magnificently," Kyoya replies in like manner. "Domo."

Hiroshi looks over at Haruhi. "She seems to be a nice girl."

"She is."

"Let's keep her that way, ne?"

Kyoya tilts his head. "Even if she's willing?"

"Especially if she's willing. Are you prepared?"

"Thanks to Akito."

"Even so, don't get carried away. Trust me on this. Slow and steady 'til she's ready."

"You drive a hard bargain, Shido-sama."

"A necessity when one is married to an Ootori."

A smile quirks at the side of Kyoya's mouth and Hiroshi gives the boy a military salute before heading down the long corridor. Kyoya listens for the soft snick of the door to the master bedroom, then closes the door of his bedroom, leaning his back against it. _They won't be checking up on us again and they won't enter without permission._ He flicks off the light panel and filtered moonlight blends with monitor's blue light.

He watches Haruhi from place - the gentle rise and fall of her chest his eyes lingering on the small but adequate breasts enhanced by the hip length pink sweater Fuyumi provided. The form fitting black leggings accentuate her legs and his groin tightens as memory recalls the way her skin felt under his touch, body trembling in his embrace, her desire manifest.

 _How can I keep from touching you again? My body aches for yours and yours for mine. I know it._ Inhale. Exhale _._ He steps across the room to stand at the end of the bed, anticipation warming his blood as his mind conjures images ranging from simple kissing to passionate fornicating in record speed. He shakes himself out of his reverie and heads into the bath. Removing his glasses, he splashes his face with cool water, then looks at himself in the mirror.

He knows he's good looking though he doesn't understand why. _My nose is too thin and my cheekbones not high enough. I look more like my father than my mother._ The thought bothers him. _At least I don't have to act like him. Yuuichi seems to have inherited his wandering eye but maybe that's because Azami is so cold. He just better not make a real pass at Haruhi or he'll be answering to me, first son or not._

He emerges while resettling his glasses, stopping by the monitor to slide a DVD into place, his choice an anime series about time travel and the butterfly effect. The possibilities intrigue him.

He returns to his place on the bed beside Haruhi, pillows cradling her. He wants to be those pillows and slides his left arm under until he's supporting her upper body. Unable to refrain, he tucks her hair behind an ear with his free hand, then down her cheek. She makes a small sound that sounds likes she's pleased with the gesture and he smiles.

_No, I won't take advantage, but I will try to persuade you, Fujioka-chan._

He moves until his face hovers over hers and gently kisses her mouth. Her sleepy eyes opening is a sight he wants to see on a regular basis. "I thought you weren't tired?" he queries.

"I'm not," comes a drowsy voice to the contrary. "What time is it?"

"Eleven. I thought we could talk more before going to bed." Haruhi's surprised look causes an instant recant of, "Each of us going to bed in separate rooms, of course."

Haruhi gives the brunet a wry smile and touches an index finger to the tip of his nose. "Of course. Talk. So, what do you want to talk about?"

His agile mind grapples for a suitable topic as he downshifts into Host mode. _She'll recognize that move in a flash. Think, Ootori._ His gaze wanders upwards and he spies his sporting equipment. _Ah, yes_.

"Have you ever been to a kyudo tournament?" he queries.

"Not in person. I saw a television special on it once. Seemed a little boring."

"Boring?" He pushes at his glasses.

"I mean, I can see the point of hitting a target but it doesn't seem too difficult." She stops when she notices the serious look on Kyoya's face. "Uhh, do you like it?"

"Actually, I've been competing since middle school. My bow is there, above you." She arches her back to angle her sightline to the mounted long bow, thus revealing the graceful line of her neck in the vee of her sweater, a secondary goal Kyoya has plotted effortlessly.

"It's as tall as you are!" she exclaims.

"Taller, by several inches. My personal practice is of the contemplative school, rather than the military."

"There's a difference?" She looks back at her instructor and lays her head on her bent arm atop the pillows. Kyoya rests on his side, propped on an elbow.

"Contemplative schools teach the form as meditation in action. Within that format, to shoot with an empty mind will inevitably result in a perfect draw, without planning. Not hitting the target is equally successful if one's attitude is correct."

"Why do you do it?" she asks, interested.

"It's been helpful in sharpening my mind and clearing it, as well. If done properly, one surrenders subjective perception to find the objective true self, becoming one with the target. It's quite a challenge."

"Sounds like it. I'm sorry I said it was boring."

"Thank you. Ouran's team is quite good."

"They have a team?"

"Indeed and I would be honored if you would attend my next competition. There's one coming up in June, just before summer break."

"I'd love to, Kyoya. I'm sure you're excellent." Her admiration is obvious.

"I was the youngest kyudoka allowed to compete with the upperclassmen. It's quite a dangerous activity."

"Like kendo."

"Similar." Throughout their exchange, he's been edging closer, mirroring her position then maneuvering her so that her head rests fully in the crook of his arm while his other grasps her hip. "It's excellent exercise that requires strength, focus and patience to execute properly."

She allows his outer leg to nudge between her knees. He's careful of her wrapped foot, keeping it above all.

"Well," she says, "it certainly takes patience to deal with Tamaki-senpai on a regular basis." At the sound of his name, Kyoya's brow knits. _Did she even hear me in the car?_

"Haruhi," he begins, but she presses her finger to his lips.

"Listen, I don't care when or where you and he did or didn't do whatever. I just want to enjoy being with you, like this," she says and looks at him squarely, large eyes blinking slowly, then capturing his gaze with a purposeful look he recognizes, but has never seen in _her_ eyes before. She presses closer, sending an arrow of desire straight to his groin. "I've been thinking about it and…"

"And?" he breathes.

Her arms wrap around him, their bodies molding themselves to one another's, foreheads touching. The sensation of Haruhi's body prone and entwined with his stimulates every molecule in his body.

"I want," she murmurs, "to know you…better."

He presses her back into the pillows saying, "I'm happy to oblige."

End - Chapter 50 - Mirrors

* * *

Mirrors by Justin Timberlake, etal [KyoHaru-centric]  
Cover by Boyce Avenue feat. 5th Harmony

Aren't you something to admire  
'Cause your shine is something like a mirror?  
And I can't help but notice  
You reflect in this heart of mine.  
If you ever feel alone and  
The "glare" makes me hard to find,  
Just know that I'm always parallel on "the other side."

BRIDGE  
'Cause with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul  
I can tell you there's no place we couldn't go.  
Just put your hand on the glass;  
I'll be trying to pull you through.  
You just gotta be strong.

CHORUS I  
'Cause I don't want to lose you now.  
I'm looking right at the other half of me.  
The vacancy that sat in my heart  
Is a space that now you hold.  
Show me how to fight for now  
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy  
Comin' back into you once I figured it out.  
You were right here all along.

CHORUS II  
It's like you're my mirror - (whoa)  
My mirror staring back at me. (whoa)  
I couldn't get any bigger (whoa)  
With anyone else beside of me. (whoa)  
And now it's clear as this promise  
That we're making two reflections into one.  
'Cause it's like you're my mirror - (whoa)  
My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me.

Aren't you something, an original,  
'Cause it doesn't seem merely assembled.  
And I can't help but stare 'cause  
I see truth somewhere in your eyes.  
I can't ever change without you;  
You reflect me, I love that about you  
And if I could, I would look at us all the time.

BRIDGE  
CHORUS I  
CHORUS II

Yesterday is history and  
Tomorrow's a mystery (mystery).  
I can see you looking back at me.  
Keep your eyes on me. (2x)

CHORUS I  
CHORUS II

Show me how to fight for now  
'Cause I don't want to lose you now.  
It's like you're my mirror.


	51. Kiss Me

Dappled light filters through the gauzy curtain, melding indistinct shadows with sharper ones. The room is silent but for the low voices playing beyond the bed and the soft inhales and breathier exhales of the reclining teens. Their bodies are warm and flush in anticipation of what neither of them name but both want - acceptance, tenderness, arousal, satiation. It's a heady brew and not one completely unfamiliar to Kyoya. And yet, yet it is different, perhaps because of who it is that lay with him in a time and place even he couldn't have planned better, though he's grateful to whatever gods have brought them here.

_Yes._

His face drifts closer and his lids lower. First kiss - slow, sweet and tender - the prelude of every kiss that has come before, and there have been many, but not nearly enough with her. Each one is tantalizing in its own way, a seductive promise that stokes his desire. Another, and again, lips chasing lips and…more until Haruhi's body is melting beneath his.

_Want you._

Not one to speak unnecessarily, he sees no reason to engage in conversation unless it's body language. His "words" are drawing gently at her bottom lip and she replies by tipping her chin up to slide his upper lip between her own. A graze of teeth, a tentative touch of tongue and he is coming undone as each movement explores the terrain of new love. And all the while, their hearts beat steady and sure as body temperatures rise.

In the sarabande they dance, tongues trip the light fantastic, moisture adding tactile pleasure to their loving. Brush follows kiss follows caress as fingers skim a cheek or sweep the curve of an ear, trace the nape of a neck or clasp the breadth of a shoulder. Kyoya holds her lightly and Haruhi murmurs his name twice, sending shivers down his spine.

 _Need you_.

He angles himself over her, keeping his weight on his hip but his touch on her. His muscles are sinewy and strong - naturally by gender, but enhanced by training and hours of sustained position and the disciplined movement of kyudo. His free hand presses against her back, fingering the camisole strap there, feeling her tremble at his touch, provoking a smile as eyes speak a language of their own. Her hand slides down his chest and around his torso into the concave space between his shoulder blades as his knee prods itself between her legs. She yields but keeps one leg angled, her knee keeping him at bay.

_Not yet, then._

And so his mouth leaves hers to imprint upon her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her forehead and back to her mouth. She tries to reciprocate but he's too focused on the way she feels, sounds, smells and tastes to give quarter. He dips his head to her neck, nudging aside the shallow vee of her sweater to find impossibly soft skin. There, he presses open-mouthed kisses while his hand slides downward, seeking the hem of her sweater. His fingers slide beneath the cami, feeling the twitch of her body as he makes his way upwards from her stomach to the flesh he's been craving to touch once more.

Haruhi gives a little 'oh' of pleasure as he fondles her breasts, his fingers coaxing each one to alertness and she sighs her approval. His body's response is certain, especially when her hand moves to the front of his shirt, coming to rest at the first closed button. She hesitates until Kyoya whispers, "do it," and the buttons come undone, one by one, his untucked shirt falling open as she lay a hand on his chest.

"What should I do now?" she asks.

"That's up to you," he coolly replies. _Argh, could you sound any more detached, Ootori?_ But it's old territory, memories of feel good trysts that meant nothing intruding along with conversation only a few days old.

_...Love is an illusion we call reality…Everyone betrays you in the end..._

_That's what I said, but this is different. She's different._

Cool logic eludes him as his body begs notice, halting their intimacy for a few uncertain moments nobody would pick up on, except one.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing."

"Just tell me, okay?"

He looks to one side. "You should know that this - we... It isn't casual because it's not. You're not."

"I believe you," she says, cupping his cheek with her hand until he returns her gaze.

"I'm good at many things, Haruhi. Expressing emotion just isn't one of them."

"You're doing fine. Besides," she adds, pushing up suddenly so that his hand leaves her and he's leaning back into the bank of pillows behind them, left wanting and half erect.

_Shite, we're done? No…_

Haruhi is moving onto her knees, leaning over him, his leg still between hers, her arms stiff on either side of him.

"We're learning, Kyoya, about one another, right?" Her tone is both innocent and provocative. His mouth drops open just a tad, but he recovers at once, saying nothing but watching her intently. She settles back on her knees, his leg as support, and traces the shallow marks of his toned abdomen with her fingers, trailing towards his stomach, then back until her palms rests over brown button nipples. Her touch is electrifying and his erection is complete.

She begins, "Do you want-?"

"Please," he implores, not caring what she thinks, desperate for her touch.

She half-smiles, then imitates his caresses on her, teasing and stroking the small, stiff buds, forcing him to close his eyes and tip his head back, his mouth open. He allows her freedom to act until he can't stand it any longer and in one deft move, repositions her completely on top of him, her body straddling his thigh, his sheathed cock pressing against her leg.

"Is that you?" she asks, breathless at his assertiveness and obvious indication of his interest.

He chuckles a two-note cadence. "All me and all for you," he says.

"Kyo-ya."

"I know. Slow and steady 'til you're ready," he intones and she tips her head to one side.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I don't remember," he tosses off, bending the knee of the leg supporting her upward so that she slides towards his hip, friction achieving his goal. His leg partially straightens, then bends again with a roll of his hips, slowly rocking her forward then back. He does it again, enjoying the way her eyes close and her cheeks pinken as arousal overtakes her.

Pinning her hands against his shoulders, she presses him further into the pillows and proceeds to move without further prompting.

"Feels good," he croons, his body tingling, appetite growing.

"Yeah," she pants in response to his non-question question. She continues rocking, soft sounds accompanying her movement. They're nothing like anything he's heard from her before and pre-cum annoints his boxer-briefs, his cock aching for direct stimulation.

_This is Haruhi, the girl I love, but all I want is to flip her over and take her, right now._

Meanwhile, said girl above him moves with a dreamy expression, her cheeks dark. The image, coupled with the musky perfume that assails his nostrils, ratchets him higher. But Haruhi getting off this way isn't what he wants. He lets her ride for a few seconds more, enjoying his vantage point, then grabs her waist and rolls her off and onto her back, just managing to remember her injury and take care.

"You okay?" he asks, seeing her eyes grow wide.

"Uh-huh."

"Trust me?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't." _But you do_.

"I know you'll stop if I ask you to, won't you?"

"Then why do you ask?" he wonders aloud as his hand molds itself to the curve of her hip, then covers her bottom with a squeeze. Her gasp of surprise incites him to take her mouth again, this time rougher and deeper as his leading hand slides around and between her knees, over her leggings. They break their kiss and with foreheads sticky and pressed together, he draws his fingers upwards as though pulling the bowstring he manipulates so well and, all at once, Haruhi stiffens like the arrow.

"S'ok," he murmurs. "I won't hurt you." _She's new at this, dumbass. Don't be a jerk_. But lust is morphing his refined breeding into something more animalistic and it does feel good - very, very, very good.

_…Even if she's willing?... …Especially if she's willing…_

His conundrum is solved when Haruhi reaches up and draws his head down to her shoulder, pressing her lips to his neck as her other hand covers his forearm and tugs his sleeve upwards, her unspoken wish clear.

_So._

Thus entwined, his hand rises between her thighs and further, until he feels the heated softness of her cleft through the thin fabric and begins to stroke. He loves the way she coos and buries her face into the place where neck meets shoulder and her juices seep onto his fingers. When she parts her legs wider and begins moving against his hand, he has to stop for a few moments to regain control over himself.

He whispers in her ear, "Still trust me?"

"I do," she breathes, her hands clutching his back.

They're both breathing heavily as his hand rises then dips beneath the waistband of her pants and downwards, this time skin to skin, his long fingers finding her center easily _without all that damned fabric in the way_. Her breathing grows irregular as he dandles and massages, trying to decipher her pleasure points while maintaining a gentle touch so as not to frighten or hurt her. When he finds her turgid clit nestled inside her outer folds, he circles it with his thumb, coaxing hums of deepening pleasure from her throat.

He isn't expecting more than acquiescence, so when her hand moves to his belt, he's the one who is surprised. She fumbles with the buckle but he can't assist without leaving her so he lets her proceed as she will, his thinking consumed with only now, only her, only them. When she finally loosens the closures, she reaches down to take him in hand. He gives one satisfied huff and pulls back enough to tilt his head downward, his lust-addled brain disbelieving the sight of her hand moving on him, awkwardly to be sure, but there, there!

"Is this okay?" she asks, suddenly shy.

"First rate," he says, a groan following as she changes her hold and inadvertently rubs her palm against his cock's slickened head. "Mmm, that's good," he encourages as he pushes the envelope one step further and covers her smooth sex with his palm, sliding one long digit into her wet warmth. His thumb is stationary as he strokes out and in. Her body movements slow and he feels her inner walls begin to flutter, then contract and release over and over as she climaxes, panting without sound, her breath hot against his ear. He continues until he can no longer sense them and her breathing evens out.

Convinced she's finished while he's not, he withdraws his hand and pushes it into his jeans, covering Haruhi's. She lets him lead as he guides her grip harder and faster until he's tipping over the edge and all thoughts leave him. These are rare, singular moments of utter freedom making him want to shout into the night. Instead, he keeps his roar soft and pitched low as he rides out the waves of orgasm.

Sated and spent, he's vaguely aware of Haruhi's hand leaving him, but cognizant enough to say, "Pocket. Handkerchief." He feels her retrieve the item and he lay back, basking in endorphins and emotional connection with the girl who is now clutching a crumpled hanky. He takes it from her and cleans up, fastening his jeans and belt. Sitting up, he runs his hands through damp hair, then tousles it before turning at the waist to look down at Haruhi who lay prone and staring at the ceiling, her barrettes askew, bits of hairbangs stuck to her forehead, hands clasped over her chest.

 _Smart, beautiful and mine._ He secures a shirt button or two then reflects her pose.

"Kyoya?" Her voice wafts over to him.

"Mmm?"

"I came."

"So I noticed. Was it good?"

"Better than red bean ice cream on a hot summer day," she says, reaching both arms up and lacing them above her in a leisurely stretch. As her hands return to the bed, he seeks the one beside his and their fingers entwine. He's insanely happy and proud of himself.

Haruhi moves until her face is again above his and meets his eyes. "I like touching you, too."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

She presses her face into his chest and begins to laugh softly. "You're so proper, Kyo. What am I going to have to do to loosen you up?" She pulls back, her eyes crinkling with sincere mirth and he again feels the strange mixture of warmth, attachment and protectiveness she seems to evoke.

_So this is love. Interesting._

"I think tonight has been therapeutic in more ways than one," he says, "so I would conjecture that more outings and other activities might do the trick. We can improvise."

"Sounds rather spontaneous for the ultimate planner, but fine by me." She kisses him on his smooth chin, his beard still a few years away from sprouting. "Looks like I've fallen for you, after all."

"Took you all this time to get my meaning, did it?"

"Let's just say I like to think things over."

"Should we establish a treatment regimen?"

"I thought you wanted to be an architect, not a doctor."

"A building plan, then."

"Just remember we're taking this one step at a time, ne?"

"I will try," he says, reaching under the pillows to find his glasses and resettle them on his nose. "But you seem to be a natural at everything and that makes waiting difficult, Haruhi."

She sits upright. "To be honest, I have imagined what it might be like to…y'know...with you."

_Knew it._

"No, tell me."

"I- I can't say it."

"Haruhi, if you imagine it, it means you want it, something I've long suspected. I just want to hear you say it." He's come back to himself, but with the assuasive effects of their loveplay leaving him subtlely altered.

"I want-" she begins.

"Yes?"

"Anything?" she presses.

"Anything at all," he replies though his spirits drop a notch _. You wouldn't use sex to get something from me, would you?  
_

"Then, I want to cuddle."

"Cuddle." He sounds confused.

"You said anything at all."

"Ootori men do not cuddle."

"Bet I can change your mind." Her brows twitch and she presses her tongue to one side of her upper lip.

"I imagine you can, at that," he responds, shaking his head and allowing himself a small smile, much to his chagrin.

"Kyoya, if you imagine it, it means you want it, something I've long suspected." Another bubble of laughter.

"A fine retort, Ms. Future Attorney," he replies, his head atilt.

"Then I've won my case?"

He sighs in mock resignation. "If I must, I must, but only if you promise to wear the necklace."

She considers his offer, then says, "That seems fair, though I'll have to keep it under my shirt at school."

"Then I must insist on a private viewing after hours."

"Agreed," she says, both teens aware that a "private viewing" will entail more than seeing a necklace. "Now then," she says. "About cuddling." She turns onto her side, facing away from him, but nestling herself against his front. "It's simple," she says. He doesn't answer but turns towards her, pulling up his long legs to spoon her and draping his arm over her. "Good!" she approves.

At some point, while a new anime plays on the monitor, Haruhi falls fully asleep and Kyoya, who's only been paying marginal attention to the fantasy but full attention to the reality of the girl in his arms, notices. Bit by bit, he retreats and crosses the room to open the bedroom door onto the barely illuminated hallway.

Returning, he picks her up and carries her to the makeshift bedroom. Laying her onto the futon is awkward, but he manages, propping a pillow under her injured foot, then covering all but said foot with a puffy comforter. A delicate nightshirt is beside her pillow should she awaken and decide to change. The idea of undressing her crosses his mind and is dismissed, despite his urge to do just that.

Instead, he returns to his bedroom, showers, brushes his teeth and dons a pair of loose sweat pants. Drawing the secondary solid curtain across the room, he commands a six a.m. wakeup from the electronics console then retrieves his cellphone from his bag. He crawls under the sheets and pulls the black duvet up to his neck. Turning onto his stomach, he inhales the tang of Haruhi and himself conjoined on the linens and checks his messages. He's not surprised to see multiple texts from Tamaki and a pang of something not quite guilt nips at his conscience. The timing of the texts coincide with his time spent with Haruhi during dinner, again while they were skating and finally, while Haruhi and he were studying anatomy.

_Afraid I'll forget about you? Already happened, my friend. Things are changing and that means Host Club is changing, too. After all, I am the Shadow King._

End - Chapter 50 - Kiss Me

* * *

Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran [Kyoya-centric]

Settle down with me.  
Cover me up. Cuddle me in.  
Lie down with me  
And hold me in your arms.

And your heart's against my chest,  
Your lips pressed to my neck.  
I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet.  
And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now.

CHORUS  
Kiss me like you want to be loved.  
You want to be loved.  
You want to be loved.  
This feels like falling in love.  
Falling in love.  
We're falling in love.

Settle down with me  
And I'll be your safety;  
You'll be my lady.  
I was made to keep your body warm,  
But I'm cold as the wind blows  
So hold me in your arms. Oh no.

My heart's against your chest,  
Your lips pressed to my neck.  
I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet  
And with this feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

CHORUS

Yeah, I've been feeling everything  
From hate to love,  
From love to lust,  
From lust to truth.  
I guess that's how I know you,  
So I hold you close to help you give it up.

So…

CHORUS (2x)


	52. We Are Golden

The Haninozuka mansion is ancient in style and construction, ancient cedar beams harmonized with modern elements, as are the other buildings on the family estate, all of which are nestled amidst sculpted gardens, running streams and landscaped forests carved from the side of Mt. Abadashi, the ancestral home of the Haninozuka and Morinozuka clans. To one side of the adjoining estates drop sheer cliffs revealing a breathtaking view of Tokyo several miles away, the azure Pacific beyond.

This perfect postcard of a world power city and the surrounding region is one the clans have protected and developed for hundreds of years, their skill as martial arts teachers and practitioners having expanded to include Japan's aerospace and defense industries at all levels of power. The clans are unified by bloodlines, business endeavors and adjoining estates; but for Mitsukuni Haninozuka and Morinozuka Takashi, it is friendship strong and true that bonds them above all else.

Once more, the bright yellow Mazda sits outside the huge double doors of Honey's home. It's 7 a.m. and Mori waits for his cousin to join him. His mood today is different than yesterday when rock music rumbled the interior and sunglasses shielded his eyes from bright sunlight. Today, the skies are overcast, matching the mood of the tallest host who is out of sorts, sleep having eluded him for many hours as he tried over and over to put aside what had happened with Tamaki after club hours.

 _I'm glad we spoke. I'm glad he knows about me and now he knows something about himself. That's important. The kiss was nothing. Nothing at all._ But he can't get it out of his head. Not the way Tamaki's eyes held his, not the way it felt to hold him, not the way he suddenly wanted more but wouldn't, couldn't say. _Not then. Maybe not ever._ Meanwhile, Sungha Jung's agile fingers caress an acoustic guitar and Mori leans his head back on the headrest and closes his eyes, allowing "The Milky Way" to wash over him. His usually serene brow wrinkles.

 _It isn't love. No. My allegiance is to Mitsukuni. Always has been and always will be. Won't it?_ But deep within, Mori knows that his feelings towards the diminutive blond have been mellowing, particularly since one particular girl - Reiko - has begun showing more than a casual interest in his cousin. She's a new guest at Club, but her preference for the loli-shota is single-minded and Honey doesn't seem to mind at all. _Besides, I don't plan on living like a monk forever._ His stomach churns. _The truth is that we can't go on like this after graduation and it's selfish of me to keep him from finding someone who might make him happy. Maybe it's time-_

"Ohayo, Takashi!" Honey chortles, a boyish grin gracing his sweet features as he throws open the door to the luxury sports car, tossing his bookbag into the narrow backseat and settling into the bucket front as he usually does, Usa-chan in his lap. Mori grumbles a muted greeting in return, complexion paler than usual.

Honey tilts his head, blond curls tumbling to one side, his large brown eyes full of concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you grumpy?"

"I didn't sleep well last night."

"You don't look well. Did you miss your morning workout?"

"It's not that."

"Are you nervous about our Chemistry exam?"

"It's not that, either."

The car pulls out and they head onto the winding mountain road. Soothing music caresses them both and the cousins have no issue with sharing a comfortable silence. Today, however, that comfort is disrupted by Mori's wrinkled brow and Honey's deep understanding of human nature and knowledge of his best friend.

Turning in his seat, the blond smiles, gives his cousin a sideways glance, eyes narrowing. "Did you miss breakfast?" he asks, as if he knows that's the reason for his companion's odd mood. Reaching into his duffle coat's pocket, he pulls out a pink linen napkin tied at the top and laying it in his lap, unravels the makeshift bow, revealing a thick pile of pastel colored wasabon bricks. "I swiped these from the pantry. There aren't really enough for two, but you can have them all."

"Arigato, but no," Mori refuses, turning onto the public highway.

"They're delicious."

"Domo arigato, but I said no."

"Just try one. I think you'll like-"

Before the blond can finish his sentence, the window of the Mazda is open, the napkin parcel lifted from his lap and flung out of the window, pastel bars flying like oversized confetti.

Several silent seconds tick by and finally Honey says, "I guess you're in a bad mood, huh?"

"Yeah," comes the reply.

oOoOo

The Versailles-inspired bedroom of the Hitachiin twins is draped in darkness as a soft knock comes on the bedroom door and is opened.

"Good morning, young Masters," come the matching voices of Hana and Katsue, the twins' identical chambermaids.

"Your bath is ready and your clothes freshly prepared for the day," says Hana.

"Your mother is home today and would like to have breakfast with you," says Katsue.

Together they chime, "Please meet her in the breakfast room in thirty minutes."

The lumpy duvet atop the king-sized bed begins to move as the maids cross to the windows to draw back blue velvet draperies allowing light to spill into the spacious area, automatic sensors turning on and brightening incandescent fixtures until the room is as brightly lit as if the day outside was sunny instead of overcast.

"Thirty minutes?" gripes a muffled, disembodied voice.

"How does she expect us to be ready in only thirty minutes?" a second, equally ephemeral voice complains.

"We need at least an hour," the first informs, loud enough for the maids to hear.

"She told us to tell you not to be late, Kaoru-sama," says Katsue stepping to the left side of the bed, robe in hand, aware of her young Master's preferred sleeping spot.

"Or you won't be allowed to join her at Fashion Week in New York next weekend," Hana finishes, mirroring Katsue's position at the opposite corner.

A groan sounds and a tousled auburn head and hazel eyes peek over the thick rolled edge of the duvet, a bare arm snaking out to shove the still shrouded figure beside him. "Hikaru, get up. We're being blackmailed into eating breakfast with Mom or we can't go to New York."

"She's home?"

"Apparently."

"And awake?"

"No shit, Sherlock. Now c'mon." An identical sleepy-eyed face sits up, the cover falling into their laps, revealing bare chests. "Besides, I want to ask her about getting some new Ferragamos. The ones that got scuffed are goners after all."

Hikaru lifts the duvet, peeking underneath. "Uh, Kaoru?"

"Yeah, bro."

"I'm sportin' wood."

"Kami-sama, Hika. You don't need to announce it." He turns to the maids. "Ladies, if you don't mind, my brother's condition isn't fit for mixed company. Clearly, he doesn't mind you knowing, probably doesn't mind you seeing, and definitely wouldn't mind you taking advantage, but it might just cost you your jobs."

The maids drop the robes onto the bed, tittering behind their palms and scurrying out of the room. Hikaru throws back the covers and rises, pajama bottoms tenting. He runs a hand through scruffy hair as he heads to the bath, smartphone in hand. "What's your problem, Kao? We're 16 - our sexual peak. If this," he says gesturing to his erection, "isn't happening on a regular basis, _that's_ a problem."

"Maybe, but the girl who's causing it isn't interested."

Hikaru stops in his tracks. "Take it back."

"No." Kaoru sits on the side of the bed and stretches.

Hikaru takes a step towards his brother. "I said, take it back."

"And I said 'no.' Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

This is the second time Kaoru has legitimately challenged his twin's authority in as many days, leaving Hikaru feeling less than secure. "Me?" he says, his voice rising. "You were just as much a part of it as I was."

"Maybe, but you better hope Kyoya-senpai is in a good mood today."

"Forget senpai. I'm worried about Haruhi."

Kaoru's shoulders rise and fall as a deep sigh grips the younger twin and the boys stare at each other, remembering how she'd left school the day before. Hikaru's smartphone rings and Kaoru immediately grabs his own from the nightstand and connects their lines.

The name and number on their screens is not who they expect.

oOoOo

The Houshakuji's Tokyo apartment is an elegant affair even if it isn't nearly as luxurious or spacious as their Parisian townhouse. Space is at a premium in Japan and Renge is the only one living there at the present time, her parents shuttling back and forth between their several homes as business and leisure appointments demand. Renge is accustomed to their indulgent, albeit absentia, parenting as it allows her a wide degree of freedom and continuous pampering.

The blonde whirlwind is at her dressing table, her maid undoing the long, loose braid trailing down her back and slowly brushing through lustrous locks as Renge reads the latest French gossip rag delivered via courier each week. Three small Miyabi plushies sit before her on the table, silent recipients of past girlish affections that scarcely get a tenth of her attention now, now that she's the Manager of the Ouran High School Host Club. Still, they make a good audience.

Renge's impatience grows as the French maid finishes brushing through the silky locks and fixes her head bow for school. The maid fusses with the hair decoration, crisping the ends and puffing the loops until Renge is at her wit's end.

"Suffit, Genevieve!" she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, recanting her tone with a softer, "Merci."

"Oui, madame." The maid curtsies and leaves.

Renge waits until the servant is out of sight, then turns to her Miyabi trio with a conspiratorial look. "Now listen up, boys. We've got a job to do. I didn't have a chance to tell you last night, but yesterday I found out the most amazing secret."

The happy Miyabi cocks his head. The serious Miyabi looks down. The quizzical Miyabi seems even more quizzical.

"Seems like one of the Ouran hosts is actually a host-ess and I plan on making a splash with the news. Nothing like a little drama to increase business. Everyone will be abuzz when they find out. The trick will be to have our precious boys and the Host Club survive unscathed. And Haruhi, of course." She crosses an arm across her chest, resting the elbow of the other upon it, an index finger pressing into her cheek. "I have an idea but I'll need a little help if I'm going to pull this off properly and I know exactly who can help me." Pause. "If they're willing." She rises and just before leaving her boudoir, turns back and blowing a kiss at the floppy trio sings, "Au revoir, mes petits choux," then flounces out the door.

oOoOo

Tamaki is up and dressed and begging for his smartphone while still at breakfast, a request Shima grants. His last text to both Kyoya and Haruhi before relinquishing his phone the evening before had been identical: **Please talk to me before you hate me.** Now he scans for messages, scrolling through texts of reassurance from Honey, concern from Mori, a long apology from Kaoru and a single "gomen" from Hikaru, but nothing from the names he most wants to see.

He turns off the phone and sits back in his chair, pondering the announcement he'd made to his friends less than twenty-four hours ago. The entire day had been surreal and under any other circumstance, the King of the Ouran High School Host Club would have been frantic, but this morning he is strangely calm.

So _odd. I feel so odd. No answer from Kyoya usually upsets me and no answer from my daughter would be unforgivable. Maybe I'm still sleeping and this is just a dream? That's happened before._ He takes a sip of his freshly poured tea and the heat and flavor are real. _Nope, I'm awake. Maybe I'm in shock and need to be hospitalized?_

His eyes widen and he pushes back from the table, sprinting into the kitchen where Shima is reviewing the day's duties with the servants. She tells them, "It has come to my attention that Master Suoh Sr. will be visiting the second estate on Saturday for his monthly inspection. Every room in the house is to sparkle and the grounds must be groomed to showcase the estate's beauty in winter." The heads facing her nod.

"Shima!" Tamaki calls out as he rushes towards the group.

The elderly and proper Chief of Staff fully extends one arm to her side and a single index finger rises to the sky, stopping the blond in his tracks exactly three inches from its touch. She finishes, "A formal luncheon will be prepared. You are dismissed."

The staff disperses and Shima lowers her arm in silence before turning towards her charge, arms tucked into the sleeves of her lavender kimono. In a quiet but exasperated voice she asks, eyes averted, "Oyaho, young Master. Is something wrong?"

"How can you be so calm?" the blond wails. "I could be bleeding out my eyes and you didn't even look at me. I could be missing a limb and you wouldn't know. I could be wearing the same shirt twice and you don't even care!"

Shima lifts her chin and her gaze. "Tamaki-sama, I doubt you could have found your way to the kitchen if you were bleeding out your eyes and I would think you would have noticed a missing limb long before entering the dining room. As for your shirt, there are exactly twenty new school shirts in your wardrobe right now, delivered yesterday from the haberdasher. Ergo, you are not in mortal danger. Furthermore, a polite greeting upon seeing one's sensei would be appreciated."

Tamaki regroups. "Of course. Ohayo. But I am the heir to the Suoh legacy and you should be paying attention to me in my distress," he pouts. "Especially if I'm ill."

Shima reaches into a kimono pocket and produces a digital thermometer which she places into Tamaki's dutifully agape mouth. Tamaki isn't surprised. Shima has been known to carry a variety of handy items within the folds of her kimono.

"Normal, as suspected," she informs, tucking the item away. "I'm sure you realize that I am paid to run this household on behalf of your grandmother. As such, the morning staff meeting is a critical part of my duties. I am equally responsible for your finishing as a Japanese gentleman of noble lineage which you should know means," she continues, raising her other hand to reveal a closed fan which she uses to tap his brow "not - interrupting - others." Tamaki blinks with each tap. "And I can tell the difference between distress and hysteria. You were displaying the latter, not the former."

Duly chastened, Tamaki shrugs, "Sorry. I'm just feeling very strangely today."

"Strange is not ill. You have school and I suggest you get on with it."

"Yes, Shima." He heads towards the foyer for his outerwear.

"Tamaki-sama?" He stops mid-step. "Your father will be bringing a guest with him this weekend."

Tamaki pivots in place. "A guest? Who is it, please?"

"I wasn't told, but I was informed that it is of critical importance that you are present."

_Critical importance?_

oOoOo

Sleep - that blissful state of being, the realm of dreams and haven for the weary body. This is what Kyoya rarely experiences but what he enjoys for the first time in a very long time. There is no tossing or turning until eyes drop closed in exhaustion only to struggle back into wakefulness with a mere four or five hours rest. There is only restful slumber.

He sleeps over six hours, rises to alertness, awakening as the automatic shade lifts to allow daylight into the room and the monitor flickers on, its home channel being a private one maintained by the The Ootori Group, reporting on the company's standing in all of its related fields. His usual morning headache is non-existent and he actually smiles as the first thought that creeps into his conscious mind is of her - Haruhi.

He quickly recollects himself, forcing himself to get serious as he sits up and scrutinizes the stock numbers scrolling across the bottom of the monitor screen. But his attention is short-lived as memories of the brunette with luminous eyes and soft skin overtake him and he finds himself drifting off into events of the prior evening. Falling back into the pillows, he rolls onto his side and draws one close, hugging it to his torso, imagining it to be the girl that has filled his dreams and his heart.

A melodious shakuhachi theme plays over the intercom and Shinji's voice is heard saying, "Young Master, time to rise and meet the day. It is a sign of excellent breeding to be punctual." The theme and message repeat, louder, and Kyoya growls. Fuyumi's wake-up methods are polite but insistent and if he doesn't get up, walk across the room and turn off the unit manually, it will continue until the manservant's voice will be heard throughout the entire household, annoying everyone in earshot.

_And probably waking up Haruhi._

That thought and that thought alone prompts his legs over the side of the bed and feet to the floor, standing with a pause of several seconds to ensure his balance, then striding across the floor, smashing in the button on the front of the unit to silence it. Satisfied that the offending appliance will not disturb his beloved's sleep, he gets ready for the day.

oOoOo

Haruhi opens her eyes slowly, a cone of bright sunlight reaching her eyes through a tunnel composed of thick comforter surrounding her head and the rest of her body. Her hand rises to her throat to feel for the necklace. She panics momentarily, then recalls that it remains boxed in a pocket of her Hitachiin couture coat.

She relaxes and remains basking in the warmth of the sun-drenched blanket, memory conjuring the even greater heat generated by Kyoya and herself not far from where she now lay. The touch of his hands, the press of his lips, his body languishing against hers - everything is so new but because it is with him, it's good. She pokes her face out of her down-filled snood.

_Yesterday was crazy. Kyoya and I are a couple. Tamaki-senpai is gay. Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai are the sweetest guys ever and the twins are in deep, deep trouble. But it all led me here, so how can I be angry?_

Ideas and thoughts surrounding coincidence, destiny and chance swirl in her mind. Her tenure at Ouran, her time as a Host, the friends she's made and the experiences she's had have made her freshman year unique.

 _Unique? It's been a circus and we're all just performers._ She smiles. _Kyoya would definitely be the lion tamer and Tamaki-senpai? He'd have to be the trapeze artist in beautiful white tights, for sure. The twins would be acrobats and Mori-senpai would be a motorcycle daredevil. Honey? An adorable clown, of course. As for me, I think I might just be the tight-rope walker. Yes, that would definitely be it._

A fit of uncontrollable giggling grips her as she hugs the comforter around herself and rolls from side to side.

End - Chapter 52 - We Are Golden

* * *

We Are Golden by Mika [Host Club - centric]

Teenage dreams in a teenage circus  
Running around, like a clown, on purpose.  
Who gives a damn about the family you come from?  
No giving up when you're young and you want some.

(2x)

Running around again.

(Running around again)

Running from running.

Waking up in the midday sun.  
What's to live for?  
You could see what I've done.  
Staring at emotion in the light of day,  
I was running from the things that you'd say.

We are not what you think we are.  
We are golden, we are golden.  
We are not what you think we are.  
We are golden, we are golden!

Teenage dreams…

(2x)

Running around again.

(Running around again)

Running from running.

I was a boy at an open door.  
Why you staring?  
Do you still think that you know?  
Looking for treasure  
In the things that you threw;  
Like a magpie, I live for glitter, not you.

We are not what you think we are…

Teenage dreams…

Now I'm sitting alone.  
I'm finally looking around.  
Left here on my own  
I'm gonna hurt myself.  
May be losing my mind.  
I'm still wondering why  
Had to let the world - let it bleed me dry.

We are not what you think we are. (3x)

We are golden, we are golden!

Teenage dreams…

(2x)

Running around again.

(Running around again)

Running from running.

_Sotto voce:_

We are not what you think we are.  
We are golden. We are golden.


	53. Count on Me

The road to Ouran for the two hosts related through marriage and bound by friendship is usually filled with music, conversation and a recap of family matters. Today, however, things are different. The sunny exterior of the Mazda belies the tense atmosphere within as the air bristles. Honey knows better than to push Mori into speaking before he's ready. He hugs Usa-chan to his chest, calming himself in the wake of the sudden loss of sweets tossed without warning out of the vehicle, onto the road. Such an unforgivable act by anyone other than the young man seated beside him would have resulted in instant combat, but because it _is_ the young man seated beside him, Honey simply simmers and thinks.

_I can't believe he did that! They were perfectly good wasabon and now they're roadside litter. That is not acceptable behavior, Morinozuka Takashi. But then...it was very unlike him, to say the least. What's up with him today? He was fine when I left him yesterday afternoon. So...let's review... Tama-chan revealed he's gay. That's news. Takashi is gay. I've known that for a long time and it's fine by me. He's my best friend and always will be. Besides, we're family. His feelings for me couldn't be returned and we've both known that since middle school. Things are fine at home, so it must be something that happened after hours when he spoke with Tama-chan, but what? Unless..._

"Hey, Takashi?"

"What is it?"

"I know you're in a bad mood and you might not want to talk about it yet, but a workout might help things. If we hit the dojo at school we could sneak in a quick twenty minute sparring session before advisory. What do you say?"

"A sparring session isn't going to help, Mitsukuni."

"Oh. Then could we please stop at the bakery and pick up some pastry 'cause even though I know you've got something on your mind and all, I really was looking forward to having those wasabon. You know you reeeally didn't have to throw them out the window, right?"

Mori doesn't look at his diminutive cousin. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay," the blond chirps and faces front again, apparently satisfied to let the conversation drop. Such innocence and lack of pressure seems to ease Mori's funk but not the silence between them. Several miles pass and they turn off the highway leading into midtown Tokyo's Bunkyo district. As they approach Ouran's campus Honey chats with the fluffy pink bunny seated on his lap. He's wistfully pointing out sweet shops along their route to school.

"Look Usa-chan, there's 'KitKat.' We had that great plum mochi there, remember? And there's 'Nanak' where they serve black sesame crème brulee. And don't forget 'Papabubble.' They should have some new candy for us to try after Club today." He gives a despondent sigh. "It's really too bad I didn't get to eat my wasabon this morning. The chef made them especially for me and now I won't be able to tell her how delicious they were. But Takashi is being crabby and-"

The Mazda swerves to the curb and screeches to a stop in front of the aforesaid 'Papabubble.' Students milling in front of the popular shop turn to stare at the beautiful car and peer through the windows at the beautiful boys within. Inside the car, bookbags, food wrappers, winter gloves, Honey's smartphone and everything else not buckled down fly forward, including the car's tethered occupants who are yanked forward and back into their bucket seats in one fluid motion.

"Mitsukuni, enough!"  
"Whoa!"

Mori isn't angry, just exasperated. "Could you please stop going on about the wasabon? Or have you forgotten what happened the last time you overindulged?"

 _How could I forget those three days of misery?_ Honey reaches down for his phone and Usa-chan, now resting topsy-turvy at his feet. He straightens with deliberate movement, dropping the phone into his lap and setting the plush toy on his thighs, an impassive look on his face while staring at the pink bunny whose right eyebrow is arched. "Oh, I haven't forgotten, and I brush my teeth every day."

"Good."

"I don't forget because I finally realized how awful you feel whenever something hurts me even if it's my own fault or it's something you can't help."

"Well, yeah. We're friends, after all."

"Yup. That's why I don't ever want you to feel that way again." Honey twists at the waist. "Which is why I'm wondering if something like that isn't happening today."

Mori's head turns in increments with the words, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're obviously upset about something and you don't get upset unless you think you've done something that will upset me. So why don't you just tell me what happened yesterday after Club when you stayed behind to talk to Tama-chan?" He pauses, a steady look in his eyes. _You know you want to_.

Mori freezes. "Nothing happened with Tamaki." The words come quickly. A little too quickly, a little too forced.

Honey picks up his toy, holding him so only big brown eyes peep over the plush head. "Ta-ka-shi, c'mon. Even Usa-chan knows better than that."

"No, really." Mori shakes his head vigorously. "We talked about his coming out and that's it."

 _Yeah, right_. The blond sits back, waits a few seconds, then checks his smartphone. "We have time, you know. This morning is just another advisory period for 3rd-years. We both know what our post-grad plans are so why don't we stop pretending and you tell me what happened and what's on your mind so we can move on with our day." He smiles a bright smile and adds, "Okay?"

Silence. And silence. And more silence from the Stoic Host, introspection written on his chiseled face as he stares beyond his cousin at the passing traffic. Mori has always preferred action over words, not caring what others think about his taciturn nature except for Honey, who knows him better than anyone and with whom he's always conversed freely. Thus, such silence within the sanctuary of the car weighs heavily on him.

The corner stop light turns green, then red, green, then red and at last, Honey's intention registers. In sweet, but no uncertain terms, Mori has been informed that he won't be allowed to leave the car until he gives his cousin a satisfactory answer. Thus, without looking directly at the loli-shota, he exhales a breath of resignation and says, "We had a moment." When no response is forthcoming, the brunet refocuses on the blond whose large eyes are wide but non-judgmental 'til Honey tips his head and lifts his brows with an unspoken, "And?"

"I liked it." The statement is emphatic, accompanied by a tinge of color rising in Mori's cheeks, a sign of heightened emotion, but nothing more.

 _Thought so._ Honey watches for signs of discomfort, embarrassment or anything else that would belie the surety of the statement just made. None appear, so he says, "I'm glad. We all love Tama-chan but I think your feelings have always been a little different. I've always sensed it."

Mori's shoulders ease. Honey looks back at Usa-chan in his lap, who is smiling, then places the pink bunny into the narrow backseat, beside his bookbag. When he resettles into place, he finds Mori staring out of the front windshield.

"Tamaki is a good guy," says the brunet.

"He sure is and now he knows you're gay, just like him."

"Well, if he didn't get that concept during our conversation, I think the kiss sealed it."

 _Kiss?_ Honey chortles. "You think?" Mori drops his head to his chest, a wry smile on his face.

"I didn't mean to say that, but yeah. He seemed mildly surprised, but not entirely."

"So what's the deal with him and you?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe something," comes the cryptic answer.

A smile quirks at one corner of Honey's mouth. "And Kyo-chan?"

Mori gives his kinsman a perfect sideways glance. "Tamaki swears they're just friends, but Haruhi seems to believe something the twins overheard yesterday morning which is what triggered everything after hours." His tone grows concerned. "Speaking of which, were you able to reach her?"

"No, and I'm a little worried about that." _Hope she's doing okay._

"I couldn't reach Kyoya either, but Tamaki seemed genuinely sorry about whatever it was that happened."

"Then Haruhi will forgive him, if he's sincere."

"The twins are going to have to beg, I imagine."

"From Kyoya?"

"And Haruhi!" They chuckle good-naturedly at the showdown to come.

"Do you think Tama-chan and Kyo-chan will be alright?" Honey ponders.

"They're pretty tight. They'll sort things out."

"Just like we did."

Mori pauses. "Mitsukuni, about that. I know you're interested in Reiko and I want you to know that it's fine."

Honey presses a hand on Mori's nearest shoulder. "Are you sure about that?" he asks.

"I've been thinking about it all night, our futures, that is - yours and mine - and well, I've been selfish."

"You? But you're the one who looks out for everyone else, especially for me. I don't call that being selfish."

Mori turns off the radio, faces front again and rests his hands lightly atop the steering wheel. "You think of my looking out for you as generous and caring."

"'Cause it is."

"That's partly true, but it's also been a way to avoid facing the fact that our futures will hold some very different experiences."

"We'll always be friends, Takashi. And family."

"I know, but there are things each of us have to do separately in order to become the men we're meant to be and yesterday woke me up to that fact."

"That sounds a lot like something Tama-chan said to me once about having courage to be exactly who you are. Seems like he convinced you, too, in his own inimitable style."

"You could say that, though I think we helped each other."

"Is that what you call what happened?"

"Baka," Mori jests, throwing a loose fist out which is nimbly blocked by a forearm. They look at one another and smile.

"And," Honey adds, "maybe you figured no one would discover your penchant for boys if you became the idol of girls?"

"Yeah, and…"

"What?" Honey queries, leaning in.

"The fact that you were clear that you liked girls and I was happy just to be by your side without thinking of my own needs."

"And now you are?"

"I think it's time, don't you?"

"Yeah," comes the gentle answer. "I do." _Way past time_.

"I really am sorry about the wasabon."

"S'ok." _Not really._

"Sit tight for a minute, would you?"

"Where…?" _…are you going?_

But the tall teen has left the car and in two long strides has entered the already bustling shop in front of which they're parked. Students from the area schools are congregating inside and out, and Honey cranes his neck to see the top of Mori's dark head rising above the crowd like an ethereal UFO hovering above his peers. He stops briefly then reassembles as an adolescent in the doorway, a red-and-white striped paper sack in hand.

Honey's heartbeat quickens. _Oh, oh, oh._

Mori slides back into the low-slung car with more elegance than one might imagine his six-foot-plus frame capable of maneuvering while simultaneously handing over the sack to Honey who promptly looks inside and chortles with glee as he pulls out a golden brown taiyaki.

"Chocolate or custard?" Honey asks with the excitement of a six-year-old.

"One of each and there's even a sweet potato."

"Awww, Takashi. My favorites."

Mori restarts the Mazda, pulling away from the curb while a group of admiring girls waves at them from the curb. Honey waves back with a smile.

They complete the drive to Ouran in companionable silence as the small Host dines on the three fish-shaped pancakes stuffed with delectable fillings. Each one is eaten in the same, specific manner. First, he nibbles on the crispy tail with teeny bites until it's gone. Flipping the tail-less fish around, he bites off the fish lips followed by the head. Finally, he splits the body in half to reveal the chosen filling - chocolate, dark and exotic; custard, creamy and tantalizing and finally, sweet potato with its orange cast and tangy scent. Each half is savored and finished off with occasional yummy noises.

All are different but all are wonderful to the sweet-loving loli-shota who tidies up with the supplied serviette then presses back into his seat with an audible sigh of contentment, his face a vision of bliss. _Life is good._

Meanwhile, Mori drives recalling his interaction with Tamaki with a mixture of worry, anticipation and satisfaction. Whether or not the Host King can release his feelings for Kyoya isn't within his control, but he isn't averse to being the soft shoulder Tamaki will undoubtedly need once Kyoya's choice of partner is made clear and Mori is certain that choice will be Haruhi.

The Mazda pulls into its usual parking spot at school. Mori cuts the engine as Honey reaches into the backseat for his bookbag and Usa-chan.

"Mitsukuni."

"Uh-huh?"

"There's been a lot of drama and there's certain to be more, but I think we can manage it."

"You got it," the blond says then faces his cousin. "And if Tama-chan thinks I'm going to let his announcement, the twins' hubris, Kyoya's temper, Haruhi's naiveté or anyone else's nonsense get in the way of my lifelong best friend's happiness, they've got another thing coming."

Mori's staid visage, always in place while on campus, quivers just a little, but he remains calm and simply says, "Thanks." He unwinds out of the vehicle while Honey bounds out, shouting over the roof of the car towards Kaiya and Nashiyo, classmates who wave back and gesture for them to join them.

As they near, Kaiya says, "You're almost as late as we are and you guys are hardly ever late. What gives?"

"Aw, nothing," Honey says. "Takashi and I had a family matter we had to discuss, but it's okay now."

"I hope everything is alright between you two," Nashiyo, a bespectacled girl, says with grave concern, her glowing eyes fixed on Mori.

"Nothing comes between the two of us," Honey reminds.

"Not even Reiko?" Kaiya teases, hoping for a rise from Mori, who fails to react.

"What's she got to do with anything?" Nashiyo asks, irked.

When Honey doesn't immediately respond, Mori says, "Reiko is nice," but fails to elaborate. A look passes between the girls.

"Speaking of late," Honey says, "We know our post-grad plans, so we're exempt from advisory. How about you two?"

"We should go, Kaiya," Nashiyo admonishes.

"We'll see you later at Host Club?" Sora asks.

"You can count on us," confirms Honey while Mori nods.

With the girls growing smaller in the distance, Honey turns towards his cousin. "That goes for you, too, you know?"

"Likewise."

The young men extend their left arms towards one another, left hands fisted, fingers earthward. Their knuckles meet with a soft knock before turning in sync to the left in an ubiquitous brofist. Mori grabs Honey's bookbag with his right and the two continue on their way, Honey taking two steps for every one of Mori's but both being equal in stride.

End **-** Chapter 53 - Count on Me

* * *

Count on Me by Bruno Mars [Honey-centric]

Oh uh-huh.  
If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea,  
I'll sail the world to find you.  
If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see,  
I'll be the light to guide you.  
We find out what we're made of  
When we are called to help our friends in need.

CHORUS  
You can count on me like 1, 2, 3.  
I'll be there.  
And I know when I need it  
I can count on you like 4, 3, 2  
And you'll be there.  
'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah.  
Ooooooh, oooohhh yeah, yeah.

If you're tossing and you're turning  
And you just can't fall asleep,  
I'll sing a song beside you.  
And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me,  
Every day I will remind you.  
We find out what we're made of  
When we are called to help our friends in need.

CHORUS

You'll always have my shoulder when you cry.  
I'll never let go, never say goodbye.  
You know...

CHORUS

You can count on me 'cause I can count on you.


	54. Head of the Table

Weekday mornings are typically ordinary for Fujioka Haruhi, but not today. Today is unlike any other, though the reason for it has nothing to do with Tuesday morning and everything to do with Monday night. And no matter how things unfold, she knows she's reached a turning point in her life. Still, there's time enough for contemplation; just not while the comforter surrounding her is warm, soft and scented with lavender. She allows her eyes to drift closed again, luxuriating in the strange delight of sleeping in on a school day, when she hears a female voice on the room's intercom.

"Are you awake, Fujioka-sama?"

Haruhi forces herself to sit up, rubbing nightsand from her eyes. "Yes," she answers and the door swings opens. A petite maid enters carrying clothing on padded hangers and a small tray bearing a teapot for one and a single cup.

"Ohayo, miss. I am Ikue, Shido-sama's personal maid. Your clothes are cleaned and pressed and there's a new set of undergarments, courtesy of my mistress, and a cardigan to replace the blazer you left at school. The analgesics are to be taken with your tea per Ootori-sensei. When ready, an assortment of breakfast foods awaits your perusal in the kitchen."

"Thank you."

Haruhi is about to ask a question, but Ikue continues. "Your coat has been brushed and your cellphone re-charged. Your bookbag is with them so you may review your schoolwork and study today. An appointment has been arranged for your ankle to be examined and the Mistress has asked her reiki master to stop by this morning, if you're agreeable to treatment."

"I suppose," Haruhi responds, wondering how much the rest of her day has been pre-arranged. _I thought rich people had lots of free time to do whatever they wanted._ The maid sets the tray down and removes the steeping teabag from its vessel, revealing a commoner brand. Haruhi smiles, then glances at the clock above the messy desk sharing the room with her, startled to learn it's past nine. She never sleeps late, no matter the day. _What's wrong with me?_ But she knows not much is going to spoil her good mood.

She eases her feet onto the floor and feels around her ankle, surprised to find the swelling has gone down considerably. As soon as she stands, however, Ikue is by her side.

"Really, I'm fine," Haruhi insists and the girl steps back with a murmured apology. Haruhi remembers the etiquette involved in letting servants do their work with honor. "Listen," she says in a mild voice, "I appreciate your help but I like to dress myself, no disrespect to you."

"As you wish, Fujioka-sama. Is there anything I _can_ do for you?"

Haruhi purses her mouth to one side. "Actually, there's a gift box in my coat pocket. Could you get that for me, please?"

"I am pleased to help the friend of my Mistress." The maid exits.

Haruhi gradually adds weight to her injured ankle and finds the pain she felt last evening has eased into a mild ache, but she takes the capsules presented and enjoys the brew provided. It's different than the tea Kyoya prefers, but equally flavorful and far less expensive, she's certain. She freshens up in the attached bath, then changes into the provided garments plus her own white shirt, black trousers, Ouran tie, socks and shoes, her wrapped foot just fitting into her loafer. The cardigan Ikue mentioned is on a separate hanger with a note pinned to it. Haruhi unpins the message and reads: "This was Kyoya's in Grade 8, but it should fit. Fuyumi"

The cardigan is of Ouran ilk, pale yellow with the school crest embroidered on the chest. Haruhi can't imagine Kyoya wearing such a thing _in private or in public which is probably why is looks brand new._ The fact that Fuyumi has the garment in her possession, however, makes her wonder again about Kyoya's mother.

She hobbles to the mirror on the wall to check her appearance. The cardigan is still larger than she, so Haruhi cuffs the sleeves twice and leaves it unbuttoned. She enters the hallway, noting Kyoya's bedroom at the far end of the corridor. Memories of what happened between them the evening prior reignite her emotions and she smiles to herself.

 _When will I see you again? Today, I hope, though not being in school makes that unlikely. I'll just have to hope you miss me as much as I miss you, Kyoya. Just don't kill the twins before I do. They-_ Suddenly, she's anxious about what Kyoya might do, even though she's equally annoyed with the gingers. _Need phone._

She shuffles into the hallway, hand against the wall as she makes her way to the landing. Passing by an open doorway, she hears Kenshin arguing with Sora.

"This is ugly," the boy says.

"But Ojii-san sent it for you to wear this morning."

I don't care. Jiji-Ootori is no fun. Not like Oji-kyo. Where's Oji-kyo?"

Your uncle is at school, remember? School is important."

"Why?"

"Because that is where they teach you things."

"Oji-kyo teaches me things. Why do I need school?"

"Because Oji-kyo can only teach you some things. Ouran will give you a proper education.

"But I like my un-proper education better," the child announces and Haruhi smiles.

"Please. Ojii-san will be here soon and you must wear his gift so he'll see you're grateful for his generosity. And it's im-proper, not un-proper."

"Why is he coming?"

"To see you, of course."

"But I saw him at his castle. Why is he coming here?"

A pause is heard, then Sora says, "To meet our houseguest."

 _Houseguest? Is there someone else here I don't know about?_ Haruhi's brow knits and then her eyes widen. _Is she talking about me?_ Her mouth goes dry. _Kyoya's father is coming to meet me? Does Kyoya know about this? Oh, for feng shui. Now I really need my phone._

Haruhi quickens her pace, pausing at the landing that overlooks the living room below. She faces the top of the staircase, assessing how she's to manage the steps without hurting herself or inconveniencing anyone in the household. Black wrought-iron grillwork undulates in open spirals that repeat the length of the descent, but the top rail is wide, burnished oak.

Haruhi reverses herself and grasps the rail, swining her lower body up and over until she's straddling the banister, keeping her wrapped foot on the outside so she can stop herself with her good foot on the inside, if necessary. The first few inches of movement are tentative, but she soon gathers her courage and with both arms grasping the railing just above her head, she leans her chest into it and begins to slide.

_Kami-sama, what have I done?_

There isn't time to think about stopping as the slick banister speeds her towards her destination faster than she'd like. It's exhilarating, then scary as she remembers there is no post at the bottom to halt her momentum. _I'm going to regret thiiiis-_

Whump! Haruhi is pressing against a figure. Instinct tells her it's male. _Please let it be Shinji. Please let it be Hiroshi. Please let it be Kyoya._ But at the sound of the voice, she groans inwardly.

"Seems I've arrived just in time," Yuuichi says.

"Just like Spiderman," she quips, unsure if humor will help the awkward situation or hurt it. He chuckles, but fails to move. "Uhh, Ootori-sensei, I'd appreciate it if you could help me down, please."

"But I rather like this," he replies, his hands grasping her by the waist while doing nothing to move her bottom away from his chest. The hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Well, I don't. I just need a little help."

"For the second time in as many days, it seems. My bill is mounting, Fujioka-san. Now, place your arm around my neck for support."

Loathe to do it, Haruhi has no choice. _Stupid, stupid, stupid me_. Her posture is stiff as she follows Yuuichi's directive and eases her injured ankle over the railing. To her surprise, an arm encircles her back and another supports her legs from beneath as she's conveyed from the staircase to the sofa.

"I'm okay, really," she says, refusing to look at him.

She's been carried bridal-style before and neither time made her feel uneasy, but she is now, especially when he fails to set her down. "I can stand on my own two feet, thank you." She looks directly into the first-born Ootori's steely eyes and registers more than professional interest, heightening her discomfiture and inspiring anger. "You do realize I'm 15 years old, right?"

"Your point being?"

"Put me down, now." Her voice is low but her tone is firm as she angles her upper body away from him, eager to separate herself by pushing at him with her hands. He chuckles.

"You're quite adorable."

"And you're being rude, something I didn't think the Ootori family approved of."

He tsks at her once, then complies. "Do you always consider it rude when people of influence assist you? I should think you'd be more grateful. My family can be of significant help to someone like yourself."

Haruhi steps back, altogether vexed. "I'm grateful for your medical care last night, but I prefer assistance without strings attached. I can manage my life on my own."

Yuuichi smirks. "But there are always strings attached, with anything and everything you are given in life. You know that, don't you?"

Before she can answer, Sora and Kenshin are descending the stairs and Yuuichi modifies his demeanor.

"Ohayo, Ootori-sensei," Sora says joining them by the sofa, then bowing. "I didn't realize you were also coming."

"As the first son, I thought I should be here when my father discusses what my younger brother has been up to and how Fujioka-san is involved with," he pauses to look at Haruhi, "our family."

More unpleasant goosebumps rise along Haruhi's arms. Then she notices Kenshin peeking from behind Sora's skirt with wary eyes. _So, he doesn't like Yuuichi, either._ The littlest Ootori sees Haruhi and smiles. "You're nice," he says.

"Ohayo, Ken-bo," Haruhi says with a smile.

Yuuichi asks, "Kenshin, why are you hiding?"

Sora pushes the boy forward. "Greet your uncle as I taught you."

The boy looks at his kinsman, wrinkles his nose, but steps forward. "Welcome, Oji-yuuichi."

Yuuichi smiles benevolently. "Ah, that's a good boy. Keep up the good work, nanny."

"I am honored to serve your family, sensei."

"Of course."

A servant enters the room. "Ootori-sama has arrived."

Haruhi goes still. _I'm about to meet Kyoya's father and without Kyoya here to help me_. She closes her eyes. _Think like a Host, Haruhi. It's no different. Like hell, it's no different._ Her eyes open _. This is Ootori-sama, a very important person in Japan. First impressions matter, his oldest son is being creepy, I'm in love with his youngest and I have no idea why he wants to talk to me._ She inhales one great breath and releases it as Yuuichi winks at her, then turns to face the corridor.

_Ugh._

Ootori Yoshio isn't at all what she expects though what was she expecting, anyway? Certainly not the dapper middle-aged man who enters the room with a dominating air about him. She sees the resemblance to Kyoya though it doesn't ease her anxiety one bit. Yuuichi bows and Haruhi and Sora follow suit. From the corner of her eye, Haruhi notices even Kenshin is mollified in the imposing man's presence. She listens for clues as to how she should approach the elite patriarch by his exchange with his son.

"Ohayo, Father," Yuichi says. "I trust you are well this day."

"Yuuichi, why are you here?"

The younger Ootori is taken aback by the challenge in his father's voice and Haruhi is amused.

"I attended to Kyoya's friend yesterday and thought I would check to see that she's doing well."

"I'm sure she appreciates your concern, but I appreciate you being where you are supposed to be when you're supposed to be there. Fuyumi has given me the details, so you may go."

Yuuichi's smug expression immediately drops into one of submission and Haruhi almost feels sorry for him. Almost. _Not so brazen after all, eh? Good._

"Of course. I merely wished-"

"To find out what your brother has been up to, but there's no need. I expect such behavior from Akito but I'm surprised to see you getting involved, especially when the business of the hospital should be your first concern. I'm aware of what Kyoya is doing and with whom he is socializing. The matter is between us alone, do you understand?"

"I- I do not wish to offend."

Yoshio waves him off. "Of course not. You are, as usual, serving the family's interests."

"Always." Yuuichi's tone is plaintive.

"Though I often wonder whose interests the family's interests best serve." Before Yuuichi can answer, Yoshio steps past his son and turns his attention towards Sora and Kenshin.

"And how are you, Sora-san? Taking good care of my grandson?"

"As good as I am able which I hope is pleasing to you."

"His parents are the judge of that. I simply observe and make recommendations. Kenshin," he commands and the boy stands straighter. "How is my grandson today?"

"Fine, Jiji-Ootori."

"Do you like your new sweater?"

For a moment the boy is silent, his eyes darting away and then back. "No."

Yoshio appraises the boy with a sharp eye and a raised brow. "Tell me, what is it about the sweater that displeases you?"

"It's-" The boy pauses, then says, "scratchy."

"Is it?" The patriarch seems annoyed, but hides it with a small smile.

"It is good to express yourself with me, Kenshin, but to expect that life will always be as you wish it to be is foolish. You must learn to bear discomfort without complaint."

The boy nods and although Haruhi doubts he comprehends the full meaning, she realizes the words are being stowed for future reference. _Just like Kyoya did when he was small._

"Have the sweater replaced, Sora-san, after he has worn it for one hour. He need not wear it again after that. You may go." The Shido family employee bows and taking Kenshin by the hand, guides him towards the staircase. The boy turns back once to wave good-bye to Haruhi, who wiggles her fingers back at him.

After they're gone, Yoshio turns back to see Yuuichi, who has been waiting for his father to acknowledge him once more. "Why are you still here? I wish to speak to this young woman in private."

"As you wish, Father."

"And Yuuichi?"

"Yes?" A hopeful look appears on the first-born's face.

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself with Fujioka-san further. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Father. Quite clear." Yuuichi bows stiffly and bids them both a good day before leaving. Haruhi breathes a sigh of relief, a newfound respect coloring her opinion of the head of the Ootori family with whom she is now alone in the sun-drenched living room. A servant enters and asks if they wish refreshment.

"I have already had my breakfast, but perhaps Fujioka-san has not, despite the lateness of the hour." The phrase holds a trace of disapproval and Haruhi's nerves return. "I will, however, have coffee and if those are muffins I smell, bring several with whatever compote my daughter has available." That phrase, on the other hand, is decidedly friendlier and Haruhi is too surprised by the mercurial shift to do anything but admit the truth.

"That sounds wonderful, thank you."

The servant leaves and Haruhi puts on her best smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I would introduce myself to you properly but you seem to know who I am already. I apologize for such an informal first meeting but things happen and well, your daughter insisted on my staying." She goes quiet, then, and waits for Yoshio's response.

The patriarch of the Ootori family and head of the Ootori Group zaibatzu lifts his chin and says nothing for several seconds. Then, just as Haruhi thinks she's made some sort of faux pas, he nods and says, "Fuyumi can be hard to put off when she gets an idea into her head. I hope your parents weren't worried."

"My father was aware. He works nights so it was fine and we're both grateful for Ootori-sensei's care. My ankle is much better today."

"I shall be the judge of that. Please take a seat so I may examine it."

Haruhi takes a place on the sofa and lifts her leg until it rests along the cushioned bench. The elder Ootori sits just beyond and unwraps her injured ankle, humming to himself as he does so, taking note of the bruise blooming purple and green to one side. His hands are warm and his touch is gentle, and she's taken aback by the discrepancy between his earlier demeanor and his current actions. _Maybe there's more to you than what I've heard. That's true of most people, so why not you?_

During the exam, the servant brings food and Haruhi's stomach rumbles, long and loudly. She blushes, but Yoshio doesn't seem to notice. As he rewraps her ankle, she says, "You know, you really didn't have to check on me personally. I'm sure I'll be able to get around just fine by tomorrow."

"Yes, but be careful until all lividity is gone. Traveling clots can still pose a danger. You wouldn't want to miss more school than necessary."

"No, sir. I can't afford that."

"Not as a 1st-year honor student at Ouran Academy on scholarship."

"You know about that?"

"And that you must remain at the top of your class in order to keep that scholarship."

"Yes, but-"

"That must require a great deal of study time."

"It does."

Yoshio secures the bandage and looks up. "Then why, may I ask, were you ice skating on a school night?"

Haruhi is stunned by his knowledge _. If he knows all that, how much more does he know? About Host Club? About Kyoya and me? About my father?_

She ponders this in a matter of seconds, then grows serious. "It was somewhat irresponsible, but how was I to know that the gracious lady offering to share a cab with me last night was your daughter and Kyoya-senpai's sister? You can imagine how surprised it all was to me and how rude it would have been to refuse her invitation to dinner and entertainment."

Yoshio regards her steadily without responding, so she adds, "The ice skating was wonderful until it wasn't, of course, and I was lucky enough to be with someone who comes from a family full of doctors. At least I had a chance to see Fuyumi-sama skate. I heard all about her career and how you encouraged her so don't deny it. You must be very proud."

Yoshio's stern visage softens at the mention of his daughter's name. "I am proud of all of my children, Fujioka-san, even when they do not follow my instructions."

"Even Kyoya-senpai?" The words are out before she can recall them.

_Great._

End - Chapter 54 - Head of the Table

* * *

Head of the Table \- Joan Armatrading [Haruhi-centric]

Caught this bit of news  
From unexpected quarters.  
You - in your close-knit family -  
Who says what you should be after?  
Don't you know what you should be after  
Unless you consult the head of the table?  
The head of the table  
He's stern and strong.

Caught this bit of news  
From unexpected quarters.  
Such a close-knit family  
Keeps you on the straight and narrow.  
You find that you're unable  
To do what you want.  
The head of the table  
He's stern and strong.

So run along, little boy, run along.  
The head of the table would bend  
If you're able to prove that you're right  
And he's wrong.


	55. Never Underestimate a Girl

When Renge arrives at school, she's already late.

"I'll have to have a chat with Daddy about Gyoko. That driver has no sense of direction, even with a GPS." She hurries to her locker and changes her shoes. Being preoccupied, she doesn't hear the boys behind her. "Hey," says a low voice and she spins around.

"Yes, what do you want?" Renge asks, further irritated.

The three boys confronting her are the pernicious Yoburu triplets. She's made it a point to never find herself alone with any one of them, let alone more than one, yet here she is, in an empty locker area surrounded by Akio, Michio and Sachio.

"Aren't you late for class? I know I am, so I have to go. Excuse me," she says and moves forward. They tighten their semi-circle around her.

"What's your hurry?" Akio says in a wheedling voice.

"Yeah," seconds Sachio. "We hardly ever get a chance to talk to you when you're with those girlfriends of yours, so let's use this time to get better acquainted."

"Now, now," says Michio. "Don't scare the girl."

The hairs on the back of Renge's neck rise. "I apologize for my brothers' forward manners, Michio soothes as he leans in, resting his forearm on the locker above the honey blonde's head. "They just can't help themselves when they find a pretty girl like you all alone. You know how it is. Their hormones get all revved up." Renge feels an unidentified hand reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she jerks back. "Don't worry," Michio says. "I won't let them hurt you." He steps in closer and she backs into the locker, the coolness of metal seeping through her blouse and skirt.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but what exactly do you think you're doing?" a calm voice asks just out of Renge's sight.

Akio and Sachio turn their heads and begin to back off. Michio stays put until a hand appears on his left shoulder and the voice continues, "I believe it's time 1st-Years were in class." Michio looks over his shoulder into a pair of steely gray eyes.

"What's your problem, Ichijo?" Michio asks and Renge sees her rescuer as none other than Miyabi Ichijo. He is a paragon of virtue, a scholar-athlete, a man among men even while wearing the ugly uniform of Uki-Doki Memorial: pale yellow double-breasted blazer, forest green trousers, white shirt and instead of a red neck tie, he sports a red knit scarf turned ascot. But, unlike the brazen Yoburu brats, he makes it look good. But of course; it's Miyabi.

"My problem," Miyabi says evenly, "is that the young lady doesn't seem to welcome your attentions."

"She hasn't said that."

"Yet I noticed it from a distance. However, since you seem to be oblivious to her more than subtle cues, intervention seems needed, loathe as I am to conflict of any sort."

"What?" comes the confused reply along with an equally confused expression. Miyabi's eyes narrow and with nothing more than a forty-five degree turn of his hand on Michio's shoulder and a precisely applied thumb into the soft tissue of Michio's chest, the ruffian winces.

"Fine. Forget it," Michio says, pushing Miyabi's hand away before turning on his heel to join his brothers, already climbing the stairs.

With the triplets out of sight, Renge's shoulders drop and tears appear in her eyes. Miyabi pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to her. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, my dear. Why don't I walk you to class to ensure they don't bother you again?"

"Oh, thank you, Ichigo-senpai."

"Please," the tall figure says, "Call me Miyabi."

"Yes, Miyabi."

"And as long as I'm here, why don't I carry your books?"

"You're so considerate, Miyabi."

"I was raised to be kind to all beautiful things and to think of all things as beautiful in their own way. And you, my darling, certainly fit that category."

Renge blushes and brushes away a single tear. "Thank you, Miyabi."

They reach Renge's classroom and he hands over her bookbag, saying, "It would make me feel so much better if you would allow me to escort you home from school today."

"I'm afraid I have viola lessons today."

"Ah, so you're a musician as well as a beauty. I should have guessed from the shape of your lovely hands," he says taking Renge's free hand between his own elegant two. "May I call on you some other time?"

"Well, my lesson is over at four and you can escort me home then, if you like. I mean, if you're free...Miyabi." Her eyes are filled with stars as she gazes up into the eyes of her idol. "I'm not being too forward, am I?"

"Not at all," he replies. "You're perfect, Renge."

…Renge...Renge…

The honey blonde shakes out of her reverie to hear Kimiko calling her name and nudging her from the desk beside hers.

"Houshakuji-san," their sensei is calling, "please stand up."

Renge looks around her. _Merde._ Her 1A classmates are eyeing her, some with humor, others with curiosity as to what she'll do next. One never knows with the unpredictable Houshakuji Renge. She should be embarrassed, but she's actually annoyed at having her Miyabi daydream interrupted.

Taking a quick look at the Mendelian problem on her tablet, she does the calculations in a matter of seconds, stands and answers, "The genotypes of the black and white may be represented as cap-B(slash)cap-B and small-b(slash)small-b, respectively. A blue chicken has the genotype cap-B(slash)small-b. Crossing two blues would produce one-quarter black, one-half blue, and one-quarter white. Crossing a blue and a black would produce one-half blue and one-half black."

"Excuse me?" Awaji-sensei says.

"That's the answer to Section C, Problem 1, but I ask you, why on earth would anyone want a blue chicken?" The class bursts into laughter.

"Hush, everyone!" sensei chides. "Yes, that is the answer to that particular problem, but that isn't what I asked."

"Oh," Renge replies and gives a slight moue. "What is it, then?"

"I wanted to know if anyone else besides the Hitachiin brothers are going to be out of country at the end of the month. Your mother runs a fashion magazine, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes," the girl replies, "with a circulation of three million worldwide, but I won't be accompanying her to New York this year. There are simply too many interesting things happening here at school that demand my presence." She pauses and turns to face the twins at the back of the classroom, seated in their usual places. "Right, guys?"

The gingers look at one another. "We don't know what you're talking about," Hikaru tosses off.

"Yeah, you might be the Host Club's manager, but Kyoya-senpai is our director and he hasn't approved anything yet."

Renge's fists rise to her hips. "You both told me this morning you were fine with everything, so you better keep your promises or else."

"Houshakuji-san, you may resume your seat!" commands sensei, but it's no use. The class is chittering amongst themselves and with only a minute to go, she sighs at her class having been hijacked once again by the outrageous girl. She leaves the room, a disgruntled look on her pinched face.

OoOoO

Houshakuji Renge has never been known to be a quiet sort of girl, an acquiescent sort of girl, nor a demure sort of girl. No. Renge is and always has been a take-charge, in-your-face, brash French-Japanese girl with big ideas and a big heart. Her mother, Simone G., is Editor-in-Chief of Mélange Magazine and heiress to the Gagnon publishing empire. Renge's father, Reynard Houshakuji, is a contractual biomechanical engineer with a reputation as one of the best in France.

An only child, Renge grew up precocious and pampered. At the age of eight, she attended a fashion show with her mother. So exciting! Afterwards, she went backstage and a yet-unknown designer spotted her as she stood on a pedestal in a simple white chemise being fitted for a child-sized version of a dress having just walked off the runway. A single spotlight shone upon her while tailors buzzed about. Renge loved the attention and looked off with a dreamy expression, a thick braid falling down her back intertwined with ribbons and flowers while she imagined herself a princess with her underlings. The result? For the next three years, Renge was the face of L'avant Enfant Couture.

She traveled extensively and had no siblings with whom to quarrel or fuss, but neither with whom to share secrets or tell stories. Her companions were adults and she quickly learned how to assert herself like one. One weekend while at home in her Paris apartment, Reynard returned from Japan with several shojo manga as souvenirs. Renge fell in love with one beautiful manga bishonen after another, wishing she could attend school in Japan just for the chance to meet such beautiful boys.

Her gig with L'avant ended when her breasts sprouted and, bored for the first time in her life, Renge fell into a funk, refusing to leave her bedroom but for school. She was enrolled in the Lycée Fénelon, but the honey blonde found her classmates dull and schoolwork duller still. Her grades were fine but weekends were spent at home drawing, reading and playing dating sim games, her favorite being Uki Doki Memorial with her uber-crush, Miyabi Ichijo, filling the lonely spaces her busy schedule used to do.

When the photo of the Ootori sons was placed in her hand, Renge couldn't believe her eyes. There he was, for real - Miyabi. Well, of course he wasn't Miyabi, but the likeness was close enough to push her out of the bedroom and onto a plane to Japan. The rest, as they say, is history.

oOoOo

With sensei gone, Renge jumps onto her chair. "That's right, boys and girls," she announces, having warmed to the topic and her place in the spotlight. "You just wait and see the new and improved Ouran Host Club in the upcoming days. Our re-launch is this Friday. I, Houshakuji Renge as Manager, have deemed it so."

"I wonder what it could be," Momoka says to Kazukiyo who shrugs, knowing that the girl he admires will speak about nothing else until the big secret is revealed. The twins, meanwhile, are uncharacteristically silent.

Selina, one of their regulars, approaches. "So, guys, what do you think of this change? Are you really a part of it?" she asks, her blue eyes bright with wonder.

"Maybe we are and maybe we aren't," Hikaru says.

"Hika," Kaoru warns, tugging at his brother's blazer sleeve. "We said we'd do this to help out, remember?"

Hikaru scratches his face and looks at his twin. "Yeah, but I was half asleep when I agreed."

"I know, but I really like breathing," comes the emphatic reply. Kaoru looks back at his Swiss classmate with a sweet smile, "Selina, how about you and I talk this afternoon without this guy over here interrupting?" He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder at Hikaru who's grousing with his back to them.

Selina giggles with a wrinkled nose and whispers, "Okay," then returns to her desk.

The smile drops from Kaoru's face as he switches back to Hikaru. Standing, he leans over to speak into his ear. "We owe this to Haruhi, remember? If she's okay, Kyoya-senpai might let us off easy."

Hikaru's face angles towards Kaoru's. "We don't even know if they'll agree to it," he says.

"No, but at least they'll know we tried to help fix what we messed up. Everything's going to come out sooner or later anyway - with them, with Tamaki-senpai - everything, so we might as well do what we can to make it work. Besides, you even admitted that you were wrong yesterday. What happened to that guy? I liked him."

Hikaru looks away again, one knee clutched to his chest, while his other foot taps the floor. Meanwhile, their sensei returns with Headmaster Hisakei in tow and everyone sits down, sits up and faces forward.

"Houshakuji-san, would you please come with me?" Hisakei says. Renge flips her hair over her shoulders and Kazukiyo assists her down from the chair.

"I'll keep your bookbag and get your assignments," Kimiko says.

"I'm sure I'll be back by lunch," Renge replies without a qualm.

As she leaves with the two adults, the class hears Hisakei say, "Chairman Suoh would like to speak with you."

oOoOo

The erupting low roar of the class is left behind as the trio heads down the hallway, but Awaji-sensei soon bids them goodbye. Renge travels with Hisakei through several buildings connected by warm underground passageways. They stop, at last, in a waiting area where two sets of double salon doors flank the desk where the Chairman's administrative assistant works. Above her, in the space between the entries hangs an immense wall tapestry of bright yellow silk framed in caramel velvet, the center upon which is emblazoned an immense circular embroidery of a stylized cobalt dragon, its arms and legs outstretched with claws reaching to encompass all. The beast dances among pink and sky blue flowers as its alert eyes look to the viewer and its snout points towards the flaming sun of wisdom. In the center of it all rests the Ouran Academy black and gold crest.

The woman at the desk rises as they approach, bowing briefly. "He's waiting for you both," she says, gesturing to the right set of double doors.

Renge has never been here but she's seen the Chairman at school functions and met him at a party hosted on behalf of Tamaki. _He seemed amiable enough then. I'm sure we'll get along just fine_. She waits as the headmaster, knowing his position but also his place, opens a door and allows her to pass ahead of him.

Chairman Suoh sits behind his desk. Hisakei approaches and bows deeply. As the two men speak about school issues, Renge casts a quick, but appraising eye around the suite noting the distinct European décor, complete with hand-hewn Italian desk adorned with gilded scrolls and flourishes, along with the elegant settees and tables for parent conferences and interviews, as well as the shoji screened area behind which she can not see. The walls near the Chairman's desk are filled with his multiple degrees while the photographs and awards hung alongside announce his social strata as an elite.

_He certainly has connections, but so do I so it's no problem if he's annoyed with me. I can handle it._

Her eyes are then drawn to a custom-designed display cabinet dominating one wall, strategically placed opposite the entry to capture one's attention, its many shelves filled with porcelain items and figures of varying sizes and types. She stares until she hears the Chairman dismiss the headmaster.

 _That's odd._ Odder still is Suoh Yuzuru rising and coming out from behind his desk to join her.

"Ah, Houshakuji-san, it is so nice to have a chance to speak with you." Yuzuru's voice is smooth and mid-ranged, pitched to put even the most agitated parent or student at ease. Renge bows.

"Ohayo, Chairman. I apologize if my outburst in class offended Awaji-sensei."

"Who? Oh, yes. Please don't trouble yourself about the matter. You're a passionate individual with passionate opinions. I'm certain sensei understands that. I see you've noticed my collection." He leans in. "Would you like to see it up close?"

He's invading her space, but Renge is unflustered. _Like father, like son, I guess._ She steps back and they stroll to one end of the long unit that is fully lit despite the room being filled with light.

"It's primarily European," says Yuzuru, "with some pieces from Great Britain, Scandanavia and the Americas. Some collectors find figurines too precious for collecting, but I think they're remarkable. Such craftsmanship! Look at this, my dear. Original Dresden. Have you ever seen anything like it?"

He gestures to the figure of a woman dressed as if to attend a fancy ball, her hair piled high on her head, her face rouged and colorful flowers scattered across her corseted bosom. The entire top half is made of smooth painted porcelain, but her skirt, oh her skirt looks like the finest lace billowing out from her waist and gathering in puffs as they cascade to the beribboned base and lacy hem that appears to flutter in some ethereal breeze.

 _It looks like fabric, but I know it's glass. How on earth?_ "Beautiful," she murmurs.

Yuzuru furthers her along. "And these are Royal Vienna urns. They're quite difficult to find. And of course there's Au Garten and Riedl and Kolmar." His pride is evident.

Renge thinks the urns ugly though she likes the images on the plates featuring powdery faced women wearing huge wigs and feathered hats. "And these," Yuzuru continues as they move on, "are my beloved beauties from the Belle Epoch, my Paris Porcelain."

"Ahh," Renge breathes, recognizing the style of pieces her own mother collects. She begins to babble, "This is Edme Samson, isn't it? And this one is Georges de Feure. You even have-" she pauses. A rather large figurine of a young, voluptuous maiden reclining on a rock jutting into the ocean while she gazes at the clouds occupies a shelf of its own.

"Vion and Baury," Yuzuru says. "I admit I find the naked female figure to be most beautiful. Do you find it objectionable?" He watches her face.

Renge considers for several moments, then presses one palm crosswise atop the other, lifting her eyes to heaven and saying in a dreamy voice, "C'est de l'art. Il est francais. C'est kif-kif."

"Évidemment!" says a voice Renge recognizes at once. Spinning in place, she sees Tamaki standing nearby. _When did he get here?_

"Qu'est-ce qui se passé?"

Tamaki stands next to his father, their resemblance slight, but greater when they smile. Yuzuru says, "Japanese, please, you two," and they apologize as one in said language. "Thank you. What I'm hoping, Houshakuhi-san," the man continues, "is that you can help me with a rather unique problem." Renge is taken aback but beams with pride. "May I suggest we sit down and chat?" He gestures to a nearby area and calls his assistant. As the lunch hour chimes, finger sandwiches and tea are served and the trio dines.

"And how are your studies getting along?" Yuzuru asks the honey blonde seated across from himself and Tamaki as they finish their meal, having already discussed fine porcelain, the future of Gagnon Publishing and Mélange magazine's latest issue.

"I have an A average and I'm preparing for finals." _Enough with the chitchat already!  
_

"Very good. Have you given thought to your university studies?"

"I do have a flair for management, so I'm thinking Business Administration." _Could we please get to the point?_

"I could see you doing that," Tamaki says. "You've done good work for the Host Club."

"Have I?" Renge's eyes light up. "So, tell me, senpai, what kind of help do you need from me?"

Tamaki quiets and he looks to his father.

"So you've guessed that my problem is Tamaki's as well," says Yuzuru. "I try to maintain an appropriate detachment from my son's activities to avoid talk of favoritism, but it seems he's come to a certain realization about himself that he feels might jeopardize the Host Club's continued operation. Mind you, it's only come to my attention very recently but," Yuzuru drops his eyes, then raises them to meet his son's, "I will support him in whatever he chooses to pursue." Tamaki gives a small, worried smile.

"Meaning?" Renge looks from the elder Suoh to the younger, eyes narrowing as she sees the emotion passing between them. _Just say it…_

Tamaki wets his dry lips. "The rest of the Club knows, so, Renge..."

… _you're…_

"I'm gay."

… _gay._

"Well," she says in a soft voice, sitting back and letting the word sink into her psyche. "It's about time you admitted it."

Tamaki's eyes open wide. "Whaaat?"

She sits forward, her eyes scanning between the two Suoh men who sit in disbelief at her words. _Are you kidding or what?_ "Let me explain," she says, picking up her tea cup and taking a sip. She sets it down, daubs her lips with a napkin and crosses her hands in her lap.

Directing her attention to Tamaki, she says, "Don't you remember when I first came to the salon? You tried to make nice and I called you a phony prince, among other things. Now you know why." Tamaki wilts in place and Renge turns to Yuzuru. "You know, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why senpai, of all people, would be running a Host Club, but all the girls seemed to adore him so I figured it was a Japanese thing."

Yuzuru's brow creases, but then he simply shakes his head.

Renge's attention returns to Tamaki. "So now I guess you're ready to really come out and you're worried how everyone will react, right?"

With a sigh, Tamaki replies, "Right."

Renge gives her two-note chortle and hunches her shoulders in gleeful anticipation. "Just leave everything to me," she says, clapping her hands together. "Your faithful and incredibly talented Host Club Manager, Houshakuji Renge, is on the job!"

Suoh Yuzuru nods. "Thank you, Houshakuji-san. Please let me know if I can assist in any way, discreetly, of course."

Tamaki looks relieved. "Yeah, thanks, Renge. And thank you for not ruining the floor of my dad's office."

"You're welcome," she chirps. _This is going to be fun!_

End - Chapter 55 - Never Underestimate a Girl

* * *

 **Never Underestimate A Girl** by Vanessa Hudgens [Renge-centric]

It takes a girl to understand  
Just how to win.  
She knows she can.  
I think it's clear  
Who wears the pants.  
What boy could stand a chance?

She makes it look easy,  
In control completely.  
She'll get the best of you every single time.  
Thought by now you'd realize you should-

CHORUS  
Never underestimate a girl.  
Gets anything she wants.  
She's never gonna stop.  
(You know it. We know it.)  
Never underestimate a girl.  
She's always got a plan.  
The world is in her hands.

She got the lipstick.  
Puts it together.  
Boys have it good  
But girls have it better. (Watch out)  
Your secretary might  
End up your boss  
Whether you really like it or not.

She makes it look easy,  
In control completely.  
She'll get the best of you every single time.  
That's right. No, no, no, no. You should…

CHORUS

She might be president,  
Make all the rules.  
Don't try to win the game,  
You're only gonna lose.  
Now girls you know we got it,  
Got it going on.  
We've been trying to tell them all along.  
Listen up guys.  
Take a little sound advice.

That's right. Hey.  
C'mon, now.  
That's right. No, no.  
You should never...

CHORUS


	56. Trying Not to Lose

Ootori Yoshio is a man of means who carries enormous responsibility on his shoulders without flinching, one who believes that every problem has a solution, whether natural or contrived. Thus, he believes himself prepared to expose the true intentions of the petite brunette sitting opposite him on his daughter's sofa. He assesses her as intelligent, polite and goal-oriented. She's intimidated by him, but meets his eyes, marking her as someone with backbone. Excellent qualities, but her presence is still suspect. Perhaps Kyoya grasped the consequences of straying from convention and set out to prove he wasn't queer. Or was this all just a ruse? When she compliments him on his support of Fuyumi's skating career, he learns she's adept at being charming, but he won't be so easily deterred.

"I am proud of all of my children, Fujioka-san, even when they do not follow my instructions."

"Even Kyoya-senpai?"

The question is so bold that it actually takes the Ootori patriarch by surprise, both impressing and annoying him. He doesn't answer, but faces forward, taking the coffee served to him, his previous bedside manner exchanged for a cool silence. Haruhi munches on a toasted muffin covered with strawberry-pepper compote and wonders where the pleasant man she was just conversing with went. _No wonder Kyoya finds him difficult to please. Now the question remains: to be a Host or to be myself? That is the question._

She decides, then says in a pleasant voice, "It seems to me that people with strong minds usually have strong characters and strong opinions. You encourage your grandson to be forthcoming and I doubt you'd want a son who is anything less, though I'm sure it was easier when Kyoya-senpai was Kenshin's age than it is now." She hears a nearly inaudible grunt of agreement and sets her plate down, using the provided towel to wipe her fingers and daub her lips. Angling her body towards the dapper man seated with her, she adds, "I've only known senpai a few months but I've never known him to put less than 100% into anything he does. He's a remarkable person, no doubt because of your influence, but I'm sure you know that."

Yoshio sets his cup down and shifts only his head scant inches towards Haruhi, still without looking at her directly. "You realize Kyoya is from a blue-blood family."

"Like many of the students at Ouran." _And I'm not, ne?_

"The Ootori family lineage, in particular, is descended from nobility - eminent and influential men and women for generations."

She leans in, determined to be cordial. "It must be fascinating to know one's family history in such detail," she says. "Have the Ootori always been involved in medicine?"

Yoshio's chin lifts. "Hospital administration in the modern era, though the zaibatsu's reach is extensive. Our pharmaceutical division has produced drugs to aid in the treatment of illnesses previously thought incurable. Our partnerships with medical equipment manufacturers are growing apace and our health resorts have expanded beyond the Japanese borders into mainland Asia and Europe."

"It's no wonder, if they're as amazing as your Tropical Aqua Garden."

Yoshio drops his chin and and looks at her with a sideways glance and arched brows. "You know of that? But that facility is not yet open to the public."

 _Oh, for feng shui. "_ Uh, Kyoya-senpai took some friends to see it while it was under construction awhile back. Things got a little crazy that day with the crocodiles getting loose and your police showing up, but it turned out okay." Yoshio pushes at his glasses, the gesture so like Kyoya that she gives him a big smile. He does not return the gesture. Her smile drops and she heaves a sigh. "He wanted us to test things out. He was gathering information for you, I suppose."

"All my children own shares in the Ootori Group investments so his interests and mine often overlap, which is why I'm here today, my primary interest being the protection of the Ootori legacy."

"I know that senpai also takes it seriously." _Damn rich people._

Yoshio finally turns towards Haruhi and meets her gaze. "As well he should. His brothers before him are already on a solid path to success and I expect the same for him."

"What about your daughter? I think she's terrific."

"Fuyumi's place for the time being is raising Kenshin. That's the way it is for Japanese women, even those highly educated. Family must come first unless you plan on becoming a career woman and eschew motherhood."

Haruhi tilts her head. "I haven't given that much thought, yet." And back. "I'm just turning sixteen; this weekend, in fact. And I still have so much schooling to go through."

"A wise insight."

Haruhi reflects on the bond between Fuyumi and her son despite his having a nanny and she, a busy schedule. "I suppose I would like a family, one day, but I definitely think it's possible for a professional woman to have a family and a career. My mom was a lawyer and she managed it."

"Was? Has she changed careers?"

"No. She passed away when I was five, but I intend to follow in her footsteps."

"And a fine goal that is, but all the more reason to remain focused on your studies. Keep your priorities straight and your focus sharp. This is something I've instilled in all my children, but distractions are inevitable."

"Distractions?" _Is that what I am to you?_

"I don't expect you to understand, but Kyoya's life has been carefully considered since he was child in order for him to have not just material wealth, but a wealth of opportunity when he comes of age. The schools he attends, the career he pursues, even his companions can not be left solely to chance. It's how things are done."

"So I've heard." Her statement is flat, but her eyes shine with challenge.

Yoshio allows himself a tiny smile. "I'm sure you view it as elitist, but it's practical and no different than any other parent's obligation to their children, whatever their social standing. I imagine it was your father who made you take the scholarship exam for Ouran Academy."

"Actually, it was my choice. My plans for my career are, too, and I can't imagine Dad telling me who my friends should or shouldn't be."

"That's rather liberal of him, but surely he has a say in who you date? It's understandable that he would be looking out for your social standing."

"He has his opinions, but he respects mine."

Yoshio hums to himself. "Then you both should know that social dating among the children of the elite is never taken seriously except between those already betrothed. There's simply no point in forming an attachment to someone who may not be a suitable match."

Haruhi's eye twitches, twice. "Ah so," she says. _You think I'm with Kyoya because he's rich. You're wrong._

"Though I must admit that if Kyoya's decided he wants to spend time with you, you must be quite the young woman."

 _Was that a compliment or an insult?_ "I'm sure you think you know what's best for your son, but what if he decides he wants something other than what you've carefully considered for him?"

"What he personally wants," Yoshio says in a voice familiar with authority, "is less important than what will serve his family's interests. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. That is what builds a powerful family and that is what keeps it a force with which to be reckoned."

Despite her irritation, Haruhi recognizes truth in his words. "It's a huge responsibility, isn't it?" she asks, empathy coming to the fore, even for him. Yoshio's expression softens for a few moments before resuming his stoicism and giving her a brief nod. "You know," she continues, "I used to think rich people could do whatever whenever, but it's beginning to sound confining."

"Confining?" Yoshio huffs. "Then tell me this, how free is the individual who must work, not by choice, but merely to survive - hours of tedious labor performed for median wages just to eat basic food and sleep under a dry roof at night? No, Fujioka-san, wealth is a powerful tool that provides leverage and freedom to act. If you work hard, you'll learn that for yourself."

"I work very hard," Haruhi says, matching the elder Ootori's penetrating gaze. "I have to in order to stay at the top of my class."

"Then do you think it prudent to begin dating when your future depends on such singular focus? I realize adolescents think they can handle anything and I'm not doubting your intelligence, but Ouran is the most competitive prep school in Japan. You're vying, not just with your classmates, for a place at a top university, but an entire nation of your peers. There's time enough for such trivial matters as dating in the future."

"I won't let my grades slip and I will achieve my goals. I know Kyoya-senpai feels the same.

"Perhaps. I can see that you're serious about your schoolwork, so I will agree with Fuyumi and lift the sanctions on Kyoya's activities. Just realize that an authentic relationship with him is unlikely when he's practically engaged to the kinsman of my son-in-law."

"What?" Haruhi shakes her head, wondering if she's heard correctly.

"She's slightly older than Kyoya but this, I think, is good for him. Suzuki-san's lineage is distinguished and though she's a professional athlete, her days as such are limited, just as Fuyumi's were."

 _The tennis player?_ Haruhi's thinking muddles as her brow knits. "I met her. They're engaged?"

"Nothing official. The omiais begin in earnest at 21, but she's the only debutante in which he's expressed interest. Didn't he tell you?"

"A bit." _It isn't true._

"He doesn't reveal much of himself, does he?" Yoshio sounds nearly comforting.

"I wouldn't say that," she replies, half listening. _It can't be true. Not after last night._

"Oh?"

"No," she says, then adds in a voice that sounds more certain than she feels, "In fact, Kyoya-senpai and I already have a relationship. We're friends and I think I know him as well as anyone, maybe better than most, and what I can tell you is he's more than the persona you've crafted for him. He has his own mind and his own plans for his future. We trust one another and he wouldn't lie to me about something as serious as what you're implying."

Yoshio is quiet, then says in a lighter manner, "You're rather blunt, but I like that - up to a point. Tell me, what does your father do for a living?"

"He's an entertainer," she says, confused into giving a quick answer by the sudden change of topic and manner.

"Entertainment is a seamy business, but the legitimate stage and concert hall are acceptable venues."

"I'm afraid he's not that grand and certainly not well known, but he does sing."

"Then he's a recording artist," Yoshio says with subtle disdain.

Haruhi takes in a breath and plucks up her courage. "Actually, he's a singer at a club in Shinjuku. He's been supporting our family for the last ten years doing it. It's steady work and he enjoys it. We don't have a lot of money, but we manage. He's a good father."

During her explanation, the man's expression grows concerned. "A club singer? In Ni-Chome?"

She knows it's too much, too soon, but she has to defend her family. "His stage name is Ranka and he works at Club Wasabi. Is there anything else you'd like to know about me or my family?" _Before I tell you to go to hell?_

Yoshio's left hand rises to his face, covering his mouth before he strokes his beard several times with one hand. He glances at the gold TAG Hauer on his wrist, worn face down. "I apologize, but I must leave for another appointment." He rises and heads to the archway leading to the foyer.

Haruhi also stands, speechless. _So that's it? He's done with me and Dad and I'm no longer worth his time?_

Yoshio turns before disappearing down the hall and in a cool voice says, "I suggest you keep your friendship with Kyoya exactly that. An injured ankle heals faster than a broken heart. Good day, Fujioka-san."

And then he's gone, leaving Haruhi frozen in place. _Am I still fooling myself? No, Kyoya is happy and that's because of me! But what about Dad? There's no way Ootori-sama can ignore that now._

She places one foot in front of the other without thinking and finds her coat and book bag in the hallway closet. Throwing on the garment, she heads into the kitchen. "Please tell Shido-sama I had to go. Thank you for your hospitality." She bows to the staff who bow in return, wishing her well and goodbye. She takes the elevator to the ground floor and it's only there that she realizes she can't possibly walk home with an injured ankle and flops onto a lobby chair.

She doesn't know how long she's been sitting there when Fuyumi enters the lobby and upon seeing Haruhi, hurries over. "Haru-chan, why are you here with your coat on?"

Haruhi looks up, eyes wide. "I want to go home, but I can't walk there."

"Of course not. Shinji-san will drive you. But, please, tell me what happened."

"Your father happened."

Fuyumi's worry settles into resignation and then her mouth forms a thin, straight line. "My father is a master of manipulation, but Kyoya knows how to handle him."

"Maybe, but I really need some time to myself. Thanks for everything, but I need to go."

"I understand. Just remember that I'm your friend, okay?"

Haruhi nods. Driving home, she stares through the vehicle's window, seeing but not seeing the busy Tokyo streets on a late Tuesday morning. She was happy when she woke up. Then Ootori Yoshio had his say.

_He could have demanded I not see Kyoya, but he didn't. No, he'd just made certain that I knew just how far apart Kyoya's world is from mine. He complimented me on my goals then insulted me by saying I should focus on them and not his son. But Kyoya…_

She leans back into the upholstery, pulling the fur collar of her coat around her face and closing her eyes. There, in her mind, she remembers how it felt in his arms, the heat he ignited in her and how they'd felt together - so right. The touch of his hands, the taste of his kiss; these are experiences she wants again and her feelings for him are stronger than ever.

Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulls out the gift box and retrieves the necklace. The charm swings gently with the motion of the vehicle and as her fingers close around it, Haruhi recalls her morning ride in the limo when Kyoya chose a song for her to hear, its haunting melody reminding her "nothing else matters _."_

When they reach her apartment building, Shinji helps her climb the stairs to the second level. "Will you be alright?" he asks.

"I'm fine, thanks." She lets herself into the cold, empty apartment. _This whole place could fit in Fuyumi's living room, but it's still home. My home and it's enough._

She turns on the heater, sets the kettle to boil and changes into comfortable clothes. Arranging her schoolwork on the living room table, she prepares tea and begins working on the assignments Kaoru has texted so far. The work engrosses her and she doesn't hear the rapping on the front door. It gets louder and she lifts her head. _Dad?_ She goes to the entry and without looking, pulls open the door, saying, "Forget your key again?"

"Hi, Haruhi," a soft voice says and she looks up into a pair of violet eyes. "Can we talk?"

Chapter 56 - Trying Not to Lose

* * *

Trying Not to Lose by Lucie Silvas [Haruhi-centric]

One day I'll catch this big wave  
And take it on, not be swept away.  
But sometimes my arms get so tired  
That when my turn comes, it's gone again.

If I could only wake up not feeling so confused  
About what I got and what I'm trying not to lose.

This love is like a changing wind  
That passes by me, blows me away.  
And the only thing that's certain is I'm here today  
And I don't think I could handle any other way.  
If I get dragged down, I'll come up again.

If I could only wake up not feeling so confused  
About what I want and what I'm trying not to lose.

And I don't mind watching you if you're happy where you are.  
I got a feeling something's on the horizon,  
But I just can't see that far.

If I could only wake up not feeling so confused  
About what I want and what I'm trying not to lose.

One day I'm gonna wake up not feeling so confused  
About what I got and what I'm trying not to lose.


	57. Every Time You Cry

Fact: It's unusual for Suoh Tamaki to miss class on a school day. Fact: It's equally unusual for Suoh Yuzuru to expend energy on anything other than school-related matters during school hours. And finally, fact: That Suoh Yuzuru has accepted Tamaki's sexual orientation with a flicker of discomfort followed by a warm embrace is no surprise at all. During their early lunch, Renge shares her plan with the two men. They agree that it's better than any hare-brained scheme Tamaki could concoct, but pulling it together in a matter of days is challenging.

 _If only I could talk to Kyoya about it,_ Tamaki thinks. _He'd know what to do 'cept he's acting weird today; texting instead of doing an assignment, letting Ayame-chan lead announcements during homeroom and smiling a peculiar smile at odd moments. Definitely weird._

Returning to Class 2A, he finds Kyoya reading while the rest of the class eats lunch in the refectory. The brunet sits sideways at his desk, book in hand. Tamaki takes his seat in front of Kyoya, twisting around and propping up his head with one hand, waiting to be acknowledged. When none is forthcoming, he sighs, loudly. Kyoya continues reading. Another loud sigh.

"You're going to hyperventilate if you keep doing that," the brunet says without looking up.

"Maybe that's what I should do, then, Kyoya. Maybe I should just sigh and sigh and sigh until I hyperventilate and faint. Then maybe you'll look at me."

"Stop being melodramatic."

"Then stop reading and talk to me. You've been ignoring me all morning," Tamaki pouts.

Kyoya closes the slim volume and pushes at his glasses. Tamaki prepares for a scolding, a welcome reassurance that Kyoya is still Kyoya. Instead, the words are there but the tone is changed - tolerant versus cynical. "For your information, the world does not revolve around you, Tamaki."

"I know. I just want to talk about us, is all."

Kyoya turns his head to look at the blond. "I thought we settled that."

"So you don't hate me?"

"You often annoy me and sometimes amuse me, but no, I don't hate you. Hating one's best friend seems counterproductive."

"Fine, but you missed Host Club yesterday and you didn't even call me to find out what happened. What kind of Director does that?"

Kyoya tosses off, "I was busy," reopens his book and resumes his previous pose. Seconds pass.

"With Haruhi?"

The book is closed once more and this time, tucked into Kyoya's schoolbag. He faces forward and Tamaki sits at attention.

"Your point?" Kyoya says.

Reassured by a more typical response, Tamaki continues, "You're my best friend, Kyo, and I should think you'd tell me more about your relationship with Haruhi."

Kyoya's mouth draws into a line, his good mood stowed in favor of a more expected one. "And if I do, will you be happy for me? For her? Can you erase the issues of our social gap, my father's archaic attitudes and your capricious emotions? Can you assure me, as my best friend, that you won't interfere in our tenuous relationship?"

"Tenuous?" Even knowing better, Tamaki's hopes spark anew, but Kyoya spots the gleam in his eye.

"Only to everyone else but us. We spent time together last evening and we're going to do more of that."

"You and - Haruhi - last night?" the blond says, words faltering, hope wiliting.

"We had dinner at Fuyumi's and went ice skating where Haruhi sprained her ankle. We both stayed at the penthouse and-"

"Is my daughter alright? Is she at school today?" Tamaki's worried face grows vexed. "Did you and she-?"

"She's fine, she's probably home by now and don't be ridiculous. We've only just started dating and Haruhi isn't the sort to rush into things. Neither am I, to be honest."

"Oh really?" Violet eyes meet gray with a twitch of eyebrow.

Kyoya's glare strikes and Tamaki pulls back, looking sheepish. "Did you tell her what happened between us? You said you would."

Kyoya soughs a long breath. "Haruhi, being the amazing girl that she is, has accepted it as a singular event in the past. We're a couple now and nothing else matters." He stands and turns to leave.

Tamaki grabs his sleeve. "Kyoya," he pleads to the brunet's back.

"If you really are my best friend, you'll be happy for us."

Tamaki releases him, but as Kyoya reaches the open classroom door, the blond says, "I'm calling a Host Club executive meeting today."

"Why?"

"To discuss things."

"What things?"

"My plan - well, it's actually Renge's plan - to keep the Host Club going during this time of change."

Kyoya turns in slow motion. "What do you mean?" he asks with deliberateness.

"After all, if you and Haruhi are dating, it's going to raise questions."

"No one has to know."

"Oh c'mon, Kyoya. It's going to go public at some point and we need a plan to convince our guests that you and Haruhi being a gay couple is no big deal."

"What?" the brunet barks before slamming the door closed.

Tamaki feels the flames of Ootori heat searing his flesh from a distance. _At least I have his full attention._ The blond stands and with one hand on his hip, runs a hand through his hair, his audience now captive even if said audience won't look at him. "We really need to consider the needs of everyone on campus, not just the ladies."

"Tamaki," the brunet warns.

"You remember how the girls reacted to BossaNova. Our guest list increased twenty percent just on the chance that he and Haruhi might do something, but he only comes to club on occasion. You and she would be regulars that could generate income. See Kyoya? I do think of the club's finances."

"But I'm not homosexual and neither is Haruhi!"

"Bisexuals then?"

Kyoya turns to face Tamaki, lenses glinting, until he falls back against the door. "You told them all, didn't you?"

"And Papa and Renge - about me, not you and me. I promised you I wouldn't and I didn't." _See, I heard you._ "But someone else did overhear our conversation the other day."

Kyoya struggles to stay composed knowing who the guilty parties are, as well as remembering telling Haruhi that being called a gay couple didn't matter to him. He strides back to where Tamaki stands. "Less than a week ago you weren't sure if you would tell anyone."

"I've reconsidered. And you are queer, Kyo. Admit it. You'd be surprised who else," Tamaki teases. Kyoya's brows lift. "If Haruhi knows and doesn't mind, why hide it? It's not like being queer in Japan is news."

Kyoya leans in. "You remember who my father is, don't you?"

"But your father isn't perfect and neither is mine," Tamaki says, as if he needs to remind the brunet of the fact.

"My father's peccadilloes are overlooked because he has influence and wealth. His children are another matter. Besides, I think he knows what happened the other night and his reaction was predictable."

"He knows?" The blond's violet eyes are saucers.

"He suspects and made it clear that it's to never happen again."

Perplexed, Tamaki says, "So you're going to be with Haruhi to make him feel better?"

Kyoya's eyes grow menacing. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. I care about Haruhi and I'm definitely sexually attracted to her. I haven't yet figured out how to manage my father, but I will."

"You're serious about her." Tamaki's surprise is genuine.

"Quite."

Tamaki inhales and exhales an "Oh." _What to do, what to do?_ Then, in a matter-of-fact manner, he says, "Then we'll just have to revise our strategy." His puppy face appears. "But I need your help. I can't do it alone and Renge just isn't you. Pleeease?"

Accustomed to his friend's erratic behavior and on firm ground with Haruhi, Kyoya surrenders to the inevitable, his anger with Tamaki spent. "Alright, I'll help you but only if this plan of yours - or Renge's - doesn't involve anyone coming out except you."

Tamaki recovers quickly. "I can live with that. Papa has given me the afternoon off to think, so he says, but I've already texted everyone to come to the salon at 3:15."

"Even Haruhi?" Before Tamaki can reply, a classmate slides the doorway open.

Kyoya sits at his desk and fusses with his bookbag. Tamaki smiles at his peers then leans down and murmurs, "See you later, mon ami." He approaches his classmates and engages them for a bit before bidding them farewell for the day.

Walking to the waiting car, Tamaki texts Haruhi. When she doesn't text back within sixty seconds, he texts Kaoru, who confirms the brunette's whereabouts. _Papa said to think and I think I should talk to Haruhi in person about all of this._ Still, as he stands outside her apartment, his heart is pounding in sync with his knuckles rapping on the metal door.

"Forget your keys?" he hears as the entry open.

"Hi, Haruhi," he says in his sweetest tone. "Can we talk?"

"Tamaki-senpai? What are you doing here?"

"I took the afternoon off." As her face registers disbelief and confusion, he clarifies, "S'ok. Papa knows. It's been sort of a crazy morning."

"I'll say."

Tamaki holds up a box labeled with the name of a well-known dimsum shop. "Hungry?" Haruhi takes the box while her stomach grumbles, loudly. "Thought so," he adds with a wink and enters.

Inside, he's once more struck by the size and simplicity of the Fujioka home. _How do they live like this?_ He squashes his pity as he removes his duffle and scarf. Haruhi hangs them beside her new coat on the pegs beside the door and he notices her wrapped ankle. He's immediately at her side, grabbing her shoulders with two hands.

"Haruhi, are you in pain?" His exaggerated tone causes the brunette to turn her face away.

In a monotone, she says, "I'll be back in school tomorrow. Kaoru's been texting me work, so I'll be caught up."

"If you need help with anything, just let me know. That's what daddies are for, after all."

"You're not my dad. When will you get that straight?"

"Me, straight? I don't think so," he quips, then blushes and drops his hands.

Haruhi looks up at him. "It's okay, senpai. I know. In fact, I'm glad you've realized this about yourself." Her upbeat comment encourages him.

"Yes, I've realized several things this week that I'd like to share with you."

Haruhi shakes her head. "I'd like to talk, but I do have work to do." Mollified, Tamaki looks down, touching the tips of his index fingers to one another. "Well, you did come all the way here, so I guess I can spare a few minutes. Can you sum it up in a few words?"

In a soft voice, he says, "It's about Kyoya and me."

"Oh," she says. Then, a quieter, "Oooohhh."

Tamaki looks at her and she searches his eyes. He tips his head to one side and shrugs, suddenly uncertain. A few seconds of heavy silence looms between them and then she turns and hobbles into her bedroom.

The door is ajar and Tamaki follows until his frame fills the doorway. Peeking in, he sees the brunette lying on her side on her bed, face turned to the wall. She's clutching a stuffed dog. _Adorable_. Then he hears a single hitched sob.

The uncharacteristic response rattles Tamaki to his core. Never, since meeting the pert brunette, has he seen her sad or blue. Angry, yes. Annoyed, yes. Happy and humored, yes and yes. But sad? Never. _I've never seen Haruhi cry before. Or heard her cry._

"Is it your contacts?" he asks, hoping for a simple solution.

"No, but thank you for asking." Her voice is thin.

"Can I get you something? I'm not much good in the kitchen but I can make tea. Maybe."

Haruhi sits up, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. Still holding Boo-chan, she grabs a tissue from a nearby box and dabs her eyes. "Forget it," she says. "I'm just feeling emotional today." She blows her nose. "Don't worry 'bout me." She tosses the tissue across the room, landing it in the wastebasket near her desk.

"Good shot."

"You think?"

"I'm surprised you aren't on the basketball team."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit short to be on the basketball team and, also, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a girl. That would be pretty hard to disguise in a locker room, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. So forget I said that, okay?" His eyes widen. "But what if we had an anime sports theme cosplay? We could mimic Kuroko's Basketball, Prince of Tennis or Major, with me as Goro, of course."

"Senpai?"

Tamaki's eyes drift upward and to the left. "Hakyuu is pretty good and then there's Free..." _I'll have to watch that one again._

"Senpai!"

Tamaki looks back at Haruhi. "What?"

"You said you had something to tell me about you and Kyoya."

The blond's shoulders droop. "Yeah."

"I already know." Tamaki's chin juts forward at the calm she displays. "Kyoya and I had our second date last night. He told me you're just friends who got curious and a little carried away, once." She pauses, studying his reaction. "That's the truth, isn't it?"

 _No. I love Kyoya and it wasn't about curiosity, at least not for me._ He swallows and stares into the tear-stained face of the girl he calls "daughter." He calls to mind her simple, "Don't worry 'bout me" and the way her sob sounded. In his mind, he suddenly envisions Maman as he last saw her, standing outside their chateau. Her face was tear-stained, too, and as she waved goodbye, she called to him, "Ne t'inquiète pas pour moi." _Ne t'inquiète pas pour moi. Don't worry about me._ It was the last time he saw her or heard her voice in person. Haruhi's eyes are moist as she regards him, worry and trust shining in her eyes.

"Yes," he says, finally and simply. The brunette heaves a great sigh and her grip on the plush animal eases. Despite his shattered heart, Tamaki manages a small smile. "What's the dog's name?"

Haruhi looks at the shina ibu. "This is Boo-chan. I've had him since I was five."

"Mind if I hold him?"

The brunette looks up, then pats the bed beside her. "Okay, but be careful. He's pretty old."

Tamaki settles next to the girl who leans against his arm, her warmth comforting. _I love them both, Haruhi and Kyoya, but in different ways. And I'll lose them both if I meddle._ He takes the dog from her and stares at the face.

"I got Kuma-chan when I was little, too; from Papa."

"Boo-chan was from my mom."

"No wonder you treasure him. You miss her, don't you?"

"Every day."

"I know how you feel," he says and his throat closes as a single tear flows down his cheek. He's about to brush it away when he feels Haruhi's hand do it for him. His eyes shift into a sideways glance and she drops her hand.

"What do you mean?" Haruhi says, confused. "I don't mean to pry, but you mom...?"

"Is alive. The thing is, she lives in France and I'm not allowed to see her. I'm illegitimate, Haruhi." If the brunette is surprised, she gives no sign. Even so, Tamaki adds, "Some people look down on me because of that."

"I don't and I'm sorry you don't get to see her."

He grabs her hand with his free one and squeezes it tight. "Please don't hate me, Haruhi. We're family, aren't we?"

She looks at the hand holding hers, then squeezes back. "Right," she says. Looking up at him, she nods and he relaxes, at last.

"Then everything is fine," he says, "except for your ankle." Glancing down at the wrapped injury showing beneath the hem of her purple jeans, he winces. "You should keep that elevated."

"Well, thank you Suoh-sensei. Actually, I've been examined by not one, but two Ootori family doctors."

"If anybody can afford quality medical care it's Kyoya's family."

"The doctors _were_ Kyoya's family. His older brother took care of me last night and his father predicted a rapid healing this morning. So I'm good. I guess." Her words are positive but her tone is ambivalent.

Enveloped by his own thoughts, Tamaki fails to notice. "So, now that you know I'm gay, I've asked Renge to help the Club out."

Haruhi's train of thought is interrupted. "Renge? Does she know, too?"

Tamaki stands and starts pacing, plush dog in arm. "Can you believe it? She says she's known from the beginning. Who does she think she is? Kyoya or something? I mean, I only just came out but she claims she knew all along. She knew, she says! But then, she is pretty sharp about things like this and she is half French, like me, so maybe she did, though I doubt it."

Haruhi rises and moves past him with Tamaki following. "I'll make tea," she says, "And you can tell me what happened after I left school yesterday."

"But I thought you had work to do."

"It can wait. Just make yourself at home."

"If you say so."

Tamaki sits seiza style at the living room table. _Kyoya and I are still best friends, Haruhi and Kyoya will be a couple and we'll all stay family. It is strange to say that Mommy and Daughter are a couple, but them being close is also understandable. I'll just have to overlook the romance part of it._ Setting Boo-chan aside, he glimpses Haruhi's notebook with its precise kanji and detailed notes, diagrams and charts side by side with color coded underlines to help her study. _She really is an honor student, though I guess I never paid much attention to that._ He looks at the stack of 1st-year books and remembers struggling with the Japanese text when he first started at Ouran. _It's still a hassle but at least I can read at grade level._ A returned exam with a score of '100' peeks out of a folder. _Haruhi is smart but she obviously works at it. She's always so on top of things and seems to take everything in stride. Then again, she is my daughter and greatness runs in the family._

As Haruhi sets down a tray bearing tea for two, he says, "I told Papa this morning and he says he loves me just the same. And guess what, Haruhi? Shima says we're having special company this weekend so I have to make sure Kyoya knows not to schedule the party on the same day."

"What party?" Tamaki freezes and Haruhi pins him with suspicious eyes. "What are you guys up to? I said no big deal, remember?"

Tamaki begs, "Please don't spoil it for Kyoya. He's going through a lot of trouble for you and if he knows I ruined the surprise, he'll be furious."

Haruhi tips her head, looking as if she's about to say something, then reconsiders. "So, who else knows?"

"Everybody in Host Club." He leans in and in his most charming manner, adds, "They're super excited about it. Maybe you could be, too? Just a little? For me?"

"No," she says and he's crestfallen until she says, "But I'll go along."

"So you'll pretend you don't know?"

She nods. "Yeah, though my acting is lame."

"Just say 'Oh!' and clap your hand over your mouth so you don't say anything more."

"You mean like you should've done?"

"Wait." Tamaki's brow knits. "Are you talking about the party or me coming out?"

She chuffs. "The party, senpai, the party. I'm glad you know yourself better and trust your friends enough to tell them, but it makes no difference to me whether you like boys or girls. It never has."

"Oh, Haruhi! You're wonderful and I'm glad we finally had our daddy-daughter chat. Come on now, give Daddy a big hug." The blond is happy once more as he reaches over, pulling Haruhi into an embrace.

Haruhi closes her eyes and groans, but doesn't pull away.

END - Chapter 57 - Every Time You Cry

* * *

Every Time You Cry by Human Nature [Tamaki - centric]

Never before have I seen you look so blue.  
I can't find a cure and nothing comforts you.  
The light at the end of the tunnel  
Doesn't shine at the end of the day.

CHORUS  
Every time you cry  
Save up all your tears.  
I will be your rainbow  
When they disappear.  
Wash away the pain  
'Til you smile again.

I will be the laughter in your eyes  
Every time you cry. (2x)

Time has a way of wounding what has healed.  
What can I say? I know just how you feel.  
Your soul is dark and troubled  
Like a river running wild.

CHORUS

I will be the one who dries your eyes  
Every time you cry. (2x)

Well, you know that's what I'm here for.  
I will give you when you need more.  
There will be no hesitation.  
I will reap no reward.

CHORUS (3x mixed)


	58. Marching On

It's early afternoon and Haruhi thoroughly enjoys the dimsum Tamaki has brought. At her request, they chat about anything and everything but Kyoya or the Host Club. Afterwards, she returns to studying while Tamaki plays Jump Ultimate Stars on her Nintendo DS. It's an older game on an older system, so he knows the game well and has already beaten half of his opponents in battle.

"Say, Haruhi?" he says, his eyes never leaving the game, his fingers never pausing.

"Hm?" she voices, her attention similar.

"When you play this game, who are you? I like Naruto."

"This is the fifth time you've interrupted me, you know."

"But I'm bored," he says with a pout.

"I have Mario Kart, if you want it."

"No, I'm fine," he says. "Just tell me who you choose to be."

Haruhi looks up from her books. "Sakura."

He stops and meets her gaze. "Because she's a girl?" His pleasure at having Haruhi identify with a female character is evident.

"No, because she's a badass. What does being a girl have to do with it?" Her response is authentic in its neutrality.

Tamaki slumps in place. "Nothing. I suppose I'm thinking that since you and Kyoya are a couple, you've embraced your feminine side."

"You should know by now that things like that don't matter to me."

"But, what about dating?"

"What about it?"

He wants to ask how she thinks of herself in that context, but doesn't dare. _There's still a lot I'm learning about myself, so I guess she is, too._ "Never mind," he says, pushing his thoughts back to the game. Haruhi's head drops to her books once more.

The blond plays for a few minutes longer, then stops and simply daydreams. In his inner mind theater, he sees himself with Kyoya, then Haruhi with Kyoya, then himself with Mori in the salon the day before. Theater mode ends abruptly with that image.

_Until a few days ago, I'd never kissed a guy before and now I've kissed two! I know things work differently with a guy than with a girl and I sort of know how. I guess I just wonder if it feels different. Kyoya and I fooled around but it wasn't sex, like all-the-way sex, and it was great, but was that because I love him? Would it feel the same if I didn't?_

_Love should feel wonderful, but right now it's just confusing. How does one stop loving? Or not want things? Or not want things to be different? Kyoya and Haruhi want to be with each other but still be friends with me. Mori-senpai loves Honey-senpai but says he just wants him to be happy. I don't know if I can do that, but I'm going to try._

A voiced sigh escapes him and Haruhi looks up once more.

"Senpai," she pleads.

"Sorry," he says, "but I want to get to the salon before the others arrive. You're coming, of course."

She gives a one-shoulder shrug. "I was absent from school, so I can't."

"I've taken care of that."

Her tone grows firm. "If it's not excusable for anyone else, it shouldn't be excusable for me, either."

"Ah, but it is, mon cheri, and Papa knows all about it.

"But-"

"Are you almost done?" Tamaki sets the game unit down. He's shifting into King-mode and closed his ears to all objections.

Haruhi looks at her notes and groans, "Yeah, I'm comin'." She closes her netbook and begins to rise, leaning her weight on her hands to keep it off her foot.

Tamaki leaps up and to her aid. "Please be careful!"

"Thanks, but I'm fine," the brunette responds, though she takes advantage of his help to right herself. "I'll just need assistance getting down the stairs."

Tamaki's eyes light up. "Don't you worry, Haruhi. Daddy will take care of everything."

"I'll need a few minutes to get ready," she says.

"But that will take at least half an hour!" Thoroughly King-mode.

Haruhi dead pans. "You're kidding, right? Give me five minutes."

Tamaki phones his driver to come up in ten. _Nobody, not even Haruhi, can be changed, coiffed and ready to be seen in public in anything less._ Hanging up, he pockets the phone and begins to clear the table of lunch remnants.

"You don't have to do that, senpai. I can take care of it later."

"Nonsense. It's the least I can do," he says, then adds in a somewhat offended voice, "I'm not helpless, you know."

Haruhi drawls, "I'll be right back," then heads into the bedroom.

Tossing her flannel shirt on the futon, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She's still the same girl she was the other night but for one difference. At her neck rests a slender chain bearing a single black pearl and sylvan charm topped by a row of melee diamonds.

She approaches the image, her gaze fixed on the gems as memory of Kyoya's hands on her triggers a shuddered sigh. She reminds herself that he likes her just as she is, even if his father questions her motives.

The sound of the kitchen tap flowing is accompanied by Tamaki calling to her. "Haruhi," he sings out.

"Yeah?"

"How much soap am I supposed to add to the water?"

"Just enough to make suds."

"Okay," he says, then begins to prattle on about Renge and their meeting with Chairman Suoh earlier that day. "I always knew Renge would be helpful even if she didn't fall for me. She's sharp, in her own way…"

Haruhi is only half-listening as she stares at her closet, wondering if Renge has shared what she now knows about her. Tipping her head to one side, she further imagines herself in the ugly yellow dress she'd have to wear as a female student. "Argh. Get a grip, Haruhi, and pick out something to wear! _"_

She keeps on the purple skinny jeans and black biker boots that allow for double socks on her injured ankle. She adds a plain white tee, the necklace filling the open vee of the shirt, its elegance in stark contrast to her simple outfit. The variation reminds her of Kyoya and herself, different but better because of it. She gives a firm nod to her reflection.

Emerging from the bedroom, she stops in her tracks and presses a palm to her mouth. Tamaki faces the kitchen sink wearing her dad's frilly apron, chef's hat and pink rubber gloves. The basin in front of him is filled with a fluffy white mountain. The blond is scooping up handfuls of foam and holding them up to the window where sunlight turns them iridescent. He turns his hands this way and that, then plunges the glistening sculptures back into the water, hands swishing around to create more froth.

"Having fun?" she says as she approaches.

"Look, Haruhi!" Tamaki's delight is evident as he scoops up another batch of glistening suds. "I never knew commoner dish soap could be so beautiful. Maman always made sure there were bubbles in my bath, but I didn't know about this. It's fantastic." His enthusiasm is both charming and contagious.

"You really are a child, sometimes," she states, humored by his antics.

He turns his head and looks down at her. "There's time enough to be a grown up, don't you think? I mean once you are, that's it for the rest of your life - oh!"

"What is it?"

"That necklace. It's gorgeous." _From Kyoya, I'm sure._

"A birthday gift," Haruhi says in a matter-of-fact way. "I wasn't going to wear it until the actual day, but I don't want to hide any more. I told Kyoya I'd wear it when I was ready to face us being a couple in public, among other things. I think it's time to let the proverbial cat out of the bag."

"About you and Kyoya?"

"About me being a girl."

"Haru-!"

"I know you're going to object, but with Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai graduating in a few weeks, things are going to change anyway. I think our guests can handle it, no matter what Renge says."

Tamaki's brow crinkles. "When did Renge and you talk?"

"We had a little heart-to-heart yesterday and, let's just say, my secret is no longer a secret to her."

Tamaki draws back. "But she never said," he begins, confused and failing to finish his thought. Haruhi waits until his brow eases.

"So what do you think? Kyoya and I have discussed it and we're prepared to deal with the fallout, one way or another. With all the changes in store for the Host Club, maybe going all out is the best approach."

"Actually, I spoke with Kyoya before leaving campus and he's fine with me coming out, but that's all."

"Really? He said he didn't want people to know about us?" She blinks rapidly several times.

 _Don't screw this up._ "No," the blond recants, "just that he didn't want you two posing as a gay couple."

Haruhi soughs a breath of air. "Considering how his father reacted this morning, that doesn't surprise me and the last thing we need is more complication."

"It's going to mean changing Renge's plan, but she'll come through. She is, after all, our Lady Manager." Tamaki looks down. "Uh-oh."

"Huh?"

"I got so distracted by the bubbles I forgot to wash the dishes."

"Shove over," Haruhi says, shouldering his arm until he steps to the left. She makes short work of things while Tamaki removes his hat and apron.

"Haruhi?" The brunette looks up sideways in perfect Host-mode at her companion, fully expecting another bear hug attack. Instead, he turns and, turning her gently by the shoulders, presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm always here for you," he says in a quiet voice.

Haruhi snakes her arms about his narrow waist and lays her cheek against his torso. "Right back 'atcha."

They finish up, then bundle against the cold, Haruhi wearing her zebra-striped hoodie with ears and Tamaki, a fur-lined bomber jacket. They head outdoors into the sunny afternoon, leaving the Fujioka abode behind.

oOoOo

The belltower chimes its full melody, announcing the top of the hour and the end of classes. One by one, the members of the Ouran Host Club make their way to Music Room #3. Hikaru and Kaoru are the first to arrive.

Just outside the double doors is a red velvet rope, slung between 24k rose gold posts, prohibiting entrance. An ornate white wrought iron easel stands at one side displaying a large golden placard emblazoned with black lettering:

**_Dear Guests…_ **

**_Forgive us, but we are closed tomorrow  
Wednesday, February 2nd_ **

**_Please join us on Friday, February 4th_ **

**_To welcome the NEW and IMPROVED  
Ouran High School Host Club_ **

**_XOXOX_ **

**_We'll be waiting for you!_ **

And below, in smaller letters, within a decorative white oval outlined in black scrolling:

**_Hosting sessions ~_ **

**_Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays  
4:00 p.m. to 5:30 p.m._ **

**_Courtesy of_ **

**_Tamaki ~ the Princely Host_**

**_Kyoya ~ the Cool Host_ **

**_Hikaru & Kaoru ~ the Mischievous Twin Hosts_**

**_Mori ~ the Stoic Host_ **

**_Honey ~ the Boy-lolita Host_ **

**_and Haruhi ~ the Natural Host_**

"What's this?" asks Hikaru.

"Beats me, but it's probably about what Renge told us," says Kaoru.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of new and improved."

"Maybe the Boss is changing the menu. After that incident with Honey-senpai's cavity, it might not be a bad idea to ease up on the sweets."

"Somehow, I don't think the meeting is about that, Kao."

"So you think-"

"It's about what happened yesterday."

Kaoru looks worried. "Yeah, I know."

They move past the rope and push open the doors together. The salon is lit only by daylight, its emptiness making the already large space seem cavernous.

"Check out the prep room," Hikaru says. "I don't want to be a witness to any unintended conversations."

"Good idea," Kaoru says, heading off to be sure they're alone.

Hikaru walks to the farthest corner from the entry, dropping both his and Kaoru's bookbags beside a loveseat. He stretches, yawning with a groan as his back arcs. He straightens, loosening his tie and slipping off his loafers before dropping into a corner of the sofa.

Kaoru returns with two bottles of banana marble soda. "Looks like somebody has a new obsession. There's a full case of this stuff back there."

Hikaru takes a bottle. "I like it."

Kaoru repeats his twin's previous actions without the yawn and drops into the opposite corner of the loveseat, lifting his legs and extending them until his feet lay in Hikaru's lap.

"Do you think he'll let us live?" Hikaru says, staring at the ceiling.

"Kyoya-senpai may be angry with us, but we bring in customers and next to Tamaki-senpai, we have the highest percentage of repeat clients. He's not going to risk losing that."

"Hm. You're probably right." He takes another swig of his drink.

"Here come Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai."

Both boys look at their approaching schoolmates. The tallest Host and the oldest Host are chatting about their school day. They seem relaxed, which eases the worries of the gingers.

Honey bounds over to them. "Hey guys, what's up?"

"Nothing," Hikaru says.

Kaoru asks, "Were you able to reach Haruhi last night?"

"Nah, but she texted me this afternoon. She says she's fine."

"Why you?" Hikaru says, in objection.

Kaoru presses a heel into his brother's groin while saying to the loli-shota, "That's good, though it is a little surprising considering we were the ones who helped her get ready for her date with Kyoya-senpai."

"And," Hikaru adds, shoving Kaoru's legs out of his lap, "we're the ones she thinks of as her brothers."

Honey is unflustered. "Maybe you guys should think about that and what you did."

The "guys" in question look at one another. "We'll make it up to her," they say in unison.

"Good," says Mori.

"Anyway, it wasn't a complete disaster," Honey says, looking for the bright side. The twins turn their attention back to the blond. "Seems like Takashi had an interesting chat with Tamaki after all was said and done."

"Mitsukuni," Mori warns.

"Really?" Hikaru says, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Is the Boss okay?" Kaoru asks of the brunet, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," he confirms.

"So you think everything will work out then?"

"I do," he assures.

Honey says, "We said we'd support Tama-chan, whatever that meant, didn't we?"

Before anyone can respond, Kyoya enters the room. His expression is even and his demeanor is calm. Too calm. He looks at them, his lens glinting once, but says nothing. Instead, he heads to the round table where he oversees the club's activities during sessions, pulls out his netbook and begins typing.

At exactly 3:15 p.m., the quarter chime sounds and Tamaki enters, Haruhi at his side. Kyoya raises his head and watches as his friend and his girl enter the room, both seeming at ease in one another's company. Tamaki looks over at him and winks, causing the brunet to grouse and shake his head. Meanwhile, the group notices Haruhi's slightly off-kilter gait and all stand, as one.

"How are you feeling, Haru-chan?" asks Honey.  
"Are you okay?" adds Kaoru.  
"If you need help…" Mori begins.  
"Just ask," Hikaru finishes.

"I'm fine, everybody, so please don't make a fuss, okay?" Haruhi says before taking a place on the loveseat opposite the twins', an empty space beside her. Honey and Mori resume their adjacent chairs, two others mirroring them on the far side of the central accent table. The twins sit down, this time side by side.

Tamaki remains standing. He looks over the group, now together in a close circle. _This is my family_. He smiles at them with customary warmth. "Thank you, all, for coming today." He pauses, then lifts his gaze to where the sole remaining member of their cadre remains, deliberately or unintentionally uninvolved.

"Ky-o-ya," he calls, drawing out the name with fondness. It's not unlike any other day except for recent events now underpinning his tone with hidden meaning. The others remain quiet, an anomaly for the usually loquacious group. The ticking of the ornate wall clock sounds very loud, indeed.

The Shadow King closes his netbook and stands. Pushing at his glasses, he approaches. His footsteps make no sound on the marble floor, his body moving without haste. The twins' hands find one another between them. Honey and Mori exchange a knowing look. Haruhi has eyes only for Kyoya.

He reaches the group, coming face to face with Tamaki who stands quietly, a bit taller than Kyoya now, though he meets his best friend's eyes dead on. _So here we are, all of us together, at last._ The two young men scrutinize one another for a few seconds before Tamaki says in soft voice, "You know we can't do this without you." Kyoya gives a quiet growl at the back of his throat.

Turning only his head, Kyoya meets the gaze of Honey, who also holds his eyes in earnest for a few moments, then smiles, a sudden burst of sunshine midst the thunderclouds. Kyoya's attention then shifts to Mori whose posture and expression remain unchanged. Next, the Shadow King's gaze moves to take in Hikaru and Kaoru, now quaking. Kyoya drops his chin, allowing them to see his eyes over the rims of his glasses, a gesture that both terrifies and soothes their fears. Kyoya draws in a quiet breath, snuffing it out through his nose without saying a word.

Then, holding himself in check, he slowly allows his eyes to fall upon the singular person he's thought about, worried about and fantasized about all day. Every other pair of eyes does the same.

The petite brunette at the center of attention at this point is sitting quietly, her gaze rising to meet Kyoya's. She doesn't say a word but, instead, pushes back the hood of her jacket with one hand while the other tugs at the zipper toggle beneath her chin. As the fabric gaps open, one can see nestled in the vee of her simple shirt, the necklace.

Soft intakes and huffs alike are heard, the belltower's half-hour chime peals and the room's chandeliers flip on against the first, subtle inkling of twilight, causing the dark pearl to glow and the tiny diamonds to sparkle - just like the eyes of the young woman wearing them.

Gone is the vacant look of ambivalence they've come to know. Her cheeks are slightly pink and her mouth plays with a smile. A twinge of jealousy marks each male for varying lengths of time, but they all know without question that the formerly apathetic-but-natural host is in love.

Kyoya's attempt to conceal his surprise is unsuccessful. To those who don't know him well, one wouldn't notice any change at all, but to his friends, the easing of shoulders, slightly parted lips and widened eyes speak volumes. Haruhi's feelings are not hers alone.

_So, it's true and I'm happy for them. I am._

"Why don't you sit down?" Haruhi says, her voice clear and certain.

"Yes," Tamaki says. "There are things we need to discuss." Then, to everyone's surprise, the blond steps aside and gestures to the vacant space beside the brunette.

_Where you belong, my dear friend._

End - Chapter 58 - Marching On

* * *

Marching On by One Republic [Tamaki-centric]

VERSE I  
For those days we felt like a mistake,  
Those times when love's what you hate,  
Somehow, we keep marching on.  
For those nights when I couldn't be there,  
I've made it harder to know that you know  
That somehow, we'll keep moving on.

CHORUS  
There's so many wars we fought,  
There's so many things we're not.  
But with what we have,  
I promise you that  
We're marching on (echo 2x).

For all of the plans we've made,  
There isn't a flag I'd wave.  
Don't care if we bend,  
I'd sink us to swim.  
We're marching on (echo 2x).

VERSE II  
For those doubts that swirl all around us,  
For those lives that tear at the seams,  
We know we're not what we've seen.  
Oh, for this dance we'll move with each other.  
There ain't no other step than one foot  
Right in front of the other.

CHORUS

BRIDGE  
Right, right, right, right, left.  
Right, right, right, right, left.  
Right, right, right.  
We're marching on. Oh…

We'll have the days we break  
And we'll have the scars to prove it.  
We'll have the bonds that we save,  
But we'll have the heart not to lose it.

For all of the times we've stopped,  
For all of the things I'm not…  
We put one foot in front of the other.  
We move like we ain't got no other.  
We go where we go, we're marching on (marching on).

There's so many wars we fought,  
There's so many things we're not.  
But with what we have,  
I promise you that  
We're marching on (echo 2x).

Right, right, right, right, left.  
(No shame)  
Right, right, right, right, left.  
Right, right, right.  
(Oh)  
We're marching on. (Repeat and end)


	59. Call It What You Want

Shinjuku Nichome, Tokyo's gay club district, is home to hundreds of entertainment venues catering to a crowd diverse in every way imaginable. Tokyo natives, Japanese tourists speaking dialects and foreigners from around the globe crowd the streets as night falls and the area is bright as day as it basks in the gaudy glow of lightbox signs, streetlamps and cell phones taking selfies.

Clubs like Arty Farty, the Leo Lounge and Tamago welcome non-regulars. Club Wasabi, on the other hand, is a private club, catering to a carefully groomed clientele. The interior is sleek and minimalist with purple, gold and rose lighting creating soft shadows against the tufted leather seating areas, a well-stocked bar, several V.I.P. booths and an open space suitable for dancing and the nightly floor show. Behind the gold drapery at the rear of the dance floor is a single dressing room where the cast of Club Wasabi's _Shimmer Show_ readies itself to entertain its exclusive guests, many of whom use pseudonyms or disguises to prevent identification.

Inside that small space, an actor sits at his mirrored vanity applying lip gloss over perfectly outlined and rouged lips. His long auburn hair is being pinned beneath a wig cap by a fellow actor sporting pink hair beneath its own cap.

"So, Ryoji, how's your daughter doing?" says the stylist and fellow actor named Susumu, also known as Crème.

Ryoji, also known as Ranka, smiles and closes his eyes, exaggerated by heavy black eyeliner, lush eyelashes top and bottom, and various shades of glitter shadow dusting his eyelids. "She's prepping for finals but I expect she'll finish the year at the top of her class."

"You must be pleased."

Ranka's eyes open and he blows an air kiss to his companion's image in the mirror. "Oh, Susu, you can't imagine. She's wonderful."

"So you tell me every day. I guess that means she's staying at that prep school?"

"Ouran is the best high school in the city."

"Well, well. Look at you, the proud daddy."

Crème finishes his pinning and taking Ranka by the shoulders, drops his own netted head until their faces are level. "I'm happy for you, but won't that mean it'll be a long time before you become a grandpa?"

"Oh, stop. She's only sixteen and she's going to be a lawyer, just like Kotoko."

"That doesn't mean she has to live like a nun, does it?"

"Fresh. But, since you must know, Haruhi has begun dating."

"Really now?" Crème's head tips to one side with mouth pursed and raised brows.

"Yes, and he's quite the catch." Ranka's pleased expression suddenly downshifts into worry.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Crème straightens, hands on hips. "Tell," he demands.

Ranka takes in a breath and soughs it out with some force. "Well, he's intelligent, charming and comes from a wealthy family."

"And?" his companion urges.

"He's a 2nd-year at Ouran and Haruhi seems excited about him, though I'm afraid it might be temporary."

"Because he's rich?"

"No. I don't think Kyoya-kun considers that a factor and Haruhi doesn't care about such things. Never has."

"Maybe that's why he likes her."

"Maybe, but there are still questions that need answers."

"How long have they been going out?"

"A few days."

"A few days? But that's nothing."

Ranka turns in his chair and Crème steps back. "They've been friends for almost a year and she's already met members of his family."

"Oh!" Crème leans against the table's edge. "Tell me more."

"They've only been on two dates, but I can tell he's very interested."

"Of course he's interested. All boys his age are. Is Haruhi smart about … you know what?"

"I should slap you for that comment. Kyoya wouldn't take advantage. He's a gentleman."

"They can be the worst and if he's rich, he's going to think he can have his way with her without consequences. Mark my words."

"He comes from a respectable family," Ranka says, sounding insulted.

"Hm. What's the name?"

"Ootori."

Crème's eyes widen. "You don't mean Ootori as in Ootori Medical, do you?"

"The same."

The two actors regard one another in silence for several seconds before Crème says, "You don't really think they're going to let one of their own continue dating your sweet Haruhi once they know you're commoners, do you?"

Ranka bristles. "Kyoya-kun already knows our situation and it doesn't matter."

"Maybe not to him, but what about his parents?"

"I've considered that and warned Haruhi not to expect too much. But then, they're just children."

Crème rolls her eyes and announces, "From such children come other children."

The room's chatter dissipates as every head turns to listen. Ranka's stare silences his friend. "Kyoya-kun is different. He's serious about things and he wouldn't-" Ranka finds it impossible to say aloud what's being suggested, to say nothing of his other concerns.

The willowy Crème steps in and cradles Ranka's cheek with one hand. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but families like the Ootori tend to dabble in affairs, but they're only serious with their own kind. Trust me. I know."

Ranka pulls away from the caress. "You may be right, but I hate to think he's being insincere. Besides, young people these days don't think the same way as their parents." Murmurs of agreement and dissent from the onlookers are heard.

Crème continues, "You say this boy is different, but don't be surprised if Haruhi doesn't end up being a side girl." His voice drops in volume. "Like me."

Ranka blinks several times. "You are nobody's side girl!"

Crème gives Ranka a knowing look and moves to his own table. Conversation ends as the troupe's dresser approaches, helping Ranka secure a multi-tonal blond wig that's layered and sprayed into a wild style before moving on to assist Crème whose wig is a dark Japanese blunt cut with thick bangs that dip into his brows and pin-straight hair falling below his shoulders.

With wigs secure, the duo stands and are assisted in dressing: Ranka into an off-the-shoulder, skin-tight, black sequined mini-dress and Crème into a body-hugging, floor-length red satin cheongsam boasting a revealing off-center slit that displays his toned leg from ankle to hip. Matching sparkly stockings and gold spike heels complete their look.

"On in five, ladies!" the stage manager calls.

A quartet of sultry drag beauties in fishnet stockings, sparkly bodysuits and elaborate feather headpieces precedes the star performers, lining up backstage. Ranka and Crème are the final pair.

As they wait in the wings, the emcee loosens up the crowd - a group of Wednesday night regulars determined to shed their buttoned-up business personas for something more approachable, maybe even decadent.

Ranka leans into his partner, saying, "You know it's not nice to upset me just before we go on."

"Sorry," Crème replies sotto voce, turning his head to meet Ranka's eyes while listening for their cue. "So I'll tell you this: one of our patrons tonight is well acquainted with the Ootori family."

Ranka grips Crème's arm. "Who? Tell me or you're not coming home with me tonight."

"Are we making threats now?"

"No, but please, Susu, what do you know?"

The quartet heads out, lip syncing a trendy pop song as they strut and pose to polite applause. Crème loosens Ranka's grip on his arm. "I'm only telling you this because we're old friends."

He pauses and Ranka says through clenched teeth, "Tell me."

"My sweet Koki is none other than Ootori Yoshio, Chairman of the Board of Ootori Medical and in all likelihood, the father of your Kyoya-kun."

Ranka's mouth drops open. "How-?" he breathes.

Crème shrugs. "He told me one night after too much sake and a bit of convincing, if you get my drift."

"You and he-"

Crème lifts a manicured index finger. "Now, now. No digging for dirt. We're friends, he and I, and it will stay that way as long as he continues to provide."

"Does he know you're…?"

"A transvestite drag queen? Of course, but we don't discuss Real Life."

"Even though he told you who he really is?"

"He doesn't remember telling me and I'm not letting that morsel slip unless absolutely necessary."

"Like now. What else did he say?"

"My interactions with Koki are my personal business."

"And my personal business is Haruhi."

"You're a good parent, Ryoji. I admire that in you."

"And you, Susu, are going to help me be an even better one."

The first number ends and the leggy quartet takes their bow and rushes offstage to change costumes. The emcee reappears and the opening riff to Proud Mary begins as he proudly announces the Tina Turner-Cher cover duo. Ranka smirks to himself and pinches Crème's bottom, eliciting a small whoop and a smile before the two saunter onstage.

OoOoO

Forty-five minutes later, the cast is taking its final ensemble bow. Ryoji and Susumu drape their costumes over the back of their chairs, but keep their wigs and makeup. Ryoji dons a black silk kimono decorated with pink parasols; Susumu, a blue floral. Tabi and gaeta complete their outfits. These are their after-show mingling clothes and just as critical to the club's success as their stage wear.

Upstairs, the audience anticipates the actors' return. The show is entertaining, but what follows is equally important to Club Wasabi's existence. Drinks and conversation shared with favored guests is standard, intimacy strictly forbidden. Tokyo's nightlife may embrace the queer community, but prostitution is still illegal. Just the same, clandestine rendezvous are often arranged and being a coveted sugar-baby is a secondary goal for many a club performer.

As Ranka and Crème, the two men sway their way towards a curved sofa in a quiet corner where a slim gentleman is centrally seated, sipping a dry martini. He wears an elegant gray thobe with stiffened collar, white kufiya with black agal and reflective sunglasses. His trim beard enhances his disguise as a Middle Eastern foreigner or a city hipster. Either is likely.

"Koki?" Crème drawls as he sidles up to the man. "I'd like to introduce you to someone."

Ranka flanks the man's opposite side and leans in close, certain that he's being given the once-over behind the shielded eyes. Koki smiles. "I've seen your act many times, Ranka-san, and I'm quite an admirer."

"You're too kind and, please, call me Ranka," said namesake murmurs, dropping his chin and his gaze before lifting it into a sideways glance and touching his upper lip with the tip of his tongue causing Koki to smile wider.

"Be careful," Crème warns. "Ranka is a notorious flirt."

"You wouldn't be trying to steal me away from Crème, would you?" Koki asks.

Ranka walks his hand with two fingers across the man's chest until it's splayed over his heart. "I would, if I could, but we're just having fun, aren't we?" Koki says nothing but his body angles towards his admirer.

"If you'll excuse me," Crème says, slipping out of the booth. "I'm sure Ranka will be good company, Koki. After all, we tend to like the same things. I'll be right back." He winks at them and leaves.

"So, Ranka," Koki says after they're alone once more, "How long have you and Crème been friends?"

"Oh, we're just colleagues," comes the tossed off reply. "But enough about me. I'd much rather talk about you. Tell me, what do you do for a living?"

"A bit of this and a bit of that."

Ranka places a hand on the man's thigh and gently squeezes. "You're teasing me! But I understand. A gentleman like yourself has to keep a low profile, doesn't he?"

Koki's brows knit but he maintains a saccharine smile. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, I can tell a man of nobility instantly. Your posture, your clothing, the way you speak - I can tell you hold great authority in life and enjoy having others answer to you. Am I wrong?" Innocence marks both Ranka's tone and facial expression.

The brows ease and a smug look appears on the bearded man's face. "I won't deny it, but it's always been natural for me to be a leader. I was raised that way by my parents."

"And I just know you've raised your children to be just like you."

"If I had children, that would be the case."

"Ah so," Ranka says, prolonging the word. "And if you had sons, they would be smart and handsome, just like you."

"And my daughter would be beautiful, no doubt."

"And all of them so talented and high-achieving." They chuckle in a conspiratorial manner before Koki grows serious.

"Just what are you trying to say, Ranka?" The question holds an edge.

"I'm saying that I'm parched. I'm saying it would be nice if a gentleman bought me a drink."

Koki's expression remains static. "What would you like? I'm partial to dry martinis, but they're not for everyone. Do you prefer sake?"

"Oh, anything you choose is fine with me. I'm sure you have excellent taste…in everything."

"I try," Koki demurs with false modesty.

"Then I'll have whatever you're having," Ranka says, signaling behind his head to wait staff with index and middle finger crossed.

A buff, bare-chested European twenty-something with kohled eyes appears at their side, his black stretch pants outlining an impressive frontal bulge.

"Three of these," Ranka says, pointing a gold-lacquered index finger towards Koki's glass.

"And an order of quail egg kushiyaki," Koki adds. The waiter takes their order and leaves.

"So, you like quail eggs?" says Ranka.

"Love them."

"So do I."

"Imagine that," Koki teases.

"I wonder what else we have in common."

"Well, there's Crème."

"Yes, dear Crème. So lovely and so talented. Who'd have thought we share so many interests? If, you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure that I do."

"Are you playing coy with me? How sweet. But if you prefer to simply watch, I'm game."

A silence falls between them as Koki removes the sunglasses and Ranka notes the startling similarities between elder and younger Ootori.

"Are you always so direct?" Koki asks.

"Isn't it better than pretending we both want something else?"

Koki holds Ranka's gaze with a penetrating stare. The actor glances down only long enough to locate the man's drink. Leaning forward without breaking their gaze, Ranka picks up the glass. His mouth parts slightly and he allows his tongue to flick against the rim before caressing the edge with his lips. He doesn't drink, but seems to do so before sliding the glass out, a trace of moisture lingering on a mouth poised to be kissed.

Koki says nothing but Ranka recognizes arousal in the subtle widening of his pupils and quiet intake of a long breath. He leans in and Koki hesitates.

"Scared?" Ranka asks.

"Careful," Koki says.

"Am I so dangerous that a mere kiss would collapse your world?"

"Hardly."

"Then why not just enjoy the moment?"

And with that, Ranka draws a bit of the kufiyah across their faces, effectively screening them from view before pressing his lips against Koki's in a stage kiss, surprising the man even as Ranka slides his hand behind Koki's neck to hold him in place. As soon as Ranka feels resistance, he drops the shielding fabric.

"Shinjimae!" It's Crème, returned to see her provider kissing Ranka. The two pull apart with Ranka looking sheepish and Koki somewhat startled, his hands involuntarily lifting to defend himself, sunglasses tumbling to the floor.

Ranka stands and attempts to say something, but fails. Instead, his eyes well up with tears just before he flees, taking refuge in the dressing room. With the door ajar, he hears his friend chiding her guest. Patrons are watching intently as the transvestite berates Koki with swear words and threats of bodily harm, along with a request. "Just leave, Koki. Leave now before I ask you to leave for good!" The man stands and walks with a purposeful gait away from the actor, the room and Club Wasabi.

"That's right," Crème calls after him. "And don't come back until you're ready to apologize." Applause breaks out from the crowd and Crème takes a bow. The DJ starts the music and as patrons take to the dance floor, Crème retires to the dressing room. As he enters, his eyes flash anger. Ranka stands and faces his friend and sometimes lover.

Suddenly, both men burst into laughter.

"Will he really be back?" Ryoji asks, hands holding his stomach as he recaptures his breath.

"Without question," Susumu reassures, equally amused.

"Did you get what I need?"

"Now, what did I just say?"

They embrace and begin laughing all over again.

End - Chapter 59 - Call It What You Want

* * *

Call it What you Want by Foster the People (Ryoji-centric)

CHORUS  
Call it what you want. (eh, eh, eh)  
Call it what you want. (eh, eh, eh)  
I said just call it what you want. (eh, eh, eh)  
Call it what you want.

Yeah, we're locked up in ideas.  
We like to label everything.  
Well I'm just gonna do here what I gotta do here  
'Cause I gotta keep myself free.  
You're ducking and moving just to hide your bruises from all your enemies.  
And I'm in the crossfire dodging bullets from your expectancies. (yeah, yeah)

BRIDGE  
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh.  
We got nothing to lose.  
You better run and hide.  
Yeah, you've crossed the line.  
I've got a knife behind my back. (just sayin')  
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh.  
We got nothing to prove.  
Your social guides give you swollen eyes  
But what I've got can't be bought, so you can just…

CHORUS

You've taken your words and you take your judgments  
And stick them onto everything.  
If it don't conform to what you were born into,  
Then you run the other way.  
You say, "Now what's your style and who do you listen to?"  
Who cares?  
Well, that rat race, ladder-climbing, fake-face smile's got nothing on me.

BRIDGE & CHORUS

Ooohs and Call it what you want. (on random repeat)


	60. Take it to Heart

The Ouran refectory is not your typical high school cafeteria. Instead of mass-marketed tables and chairs, easily cleaned and easily stowed away to make space for other events, the room has a singular purpose: the preparation, service and consuming of haute cuisine by refined palates. The elegant dining tables and tufted, high-backed chairs are permanent fixtures similar to those one might find in a home with western décor. Linen tablecloths boast neither spot nor wrinkle as sunlight streams through the arched windows causing glassware to shimmer and cutlery to gleam as a savory aroma fills the air.

Those who partake in this elegant environment are expected to become national or world leaders, experts in their chosen fields of endeavor. Their knowledge of current events must be complete, their grasp of cultural distinctions mastered, and their style unquestionable to say nothing of their manners. Yet, for all their sophistication, Ouran students are still teenagers. Rude gossip and rowdy behavior occur more often than their famous (or infamous) parents care to admit. This Thursday is no exception.

First-year Lunch Seating - 11 a.m. **  
**

The Lady Manager of the Ouran High School Host Club has been going non-stop since Monday. Does she mind? Not a whit. In fact, this is the most fun she's had since coming to the school. Entering the dining hall, she's speaking in rapid French. Not a single head turns. This is Ouran, after all, and thirty percent of the student body comes from countries other than Japan. On any given day, in fact, multiple languages can be heard on campus during lunch and free time, though the students are encouraged to speak Japanese as often as possible.

Seeing Kaoru and Hikaru at table, she barks final orders into the phone, then disconnects. As she approaches, her demeanor alters from domineering to delighted. Flipping her hair over one shoulder, she greets them, adding, "It seems we have everyone agog. Simply agog!"

The gingers assess the honey-blonde with a pointed lack of excitement. "We know," Kaoru deadpans. "We've been asked by every girl in the grade when our doors will be open again."

"Isn't it great?" Renge says with glee. _And it's all because of me. I'm sooo good.  
_

"If you say so," says Hikaru. "I don't mind new business, but our regular customers are going to be ticked if they have to cut back on their sessions because we have to accommodate new guests."

Renge scowls. "I'm doing a perfectly perfect job of increasing business, hence increasing profits, and you're complaining? Kyoya-senpai won't mind, I'm sure. In fact, he'll pat me on the head at long last and maybe, just maybe, The Black Onion Squad will be called off their Hitachiin stakeout." She drops her chin and lifts her brows.

Kaoru sighs. "She's probably right, Hika. Kyoya-senpai and Haruhi still haven't said a word to us since Tuesday. A successful re-opening will go a long way to getting back into their good graces."

Hikaru looks unconvinced. "We've done more than our fair share, so I guess we'll just have to see."

Second-year Lunch Seating - 12 p.m.

Kyoya joins Tamaki for lunch and they enjoy spending time together for the first time in days. The tension that's simmered between them seems to have subsided and both boys are glad of the fact. They're sitting quietly at the end of their usual table when the 2nd-year members of the American Football Club surround them.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" Tamaki says in a friendly voice. The stern faces of their muscular grademates remain unchanged and Tamaki withers just a bit.

Kyoya pushes at his glasses without looking up. "Is there something with which we can assist, gentlemen?"

"Maybe," Kuze Takeshi says and Kyoya looks up.

Kuze has had a long-standing feud with Kyoya ever since kindergarten when Kuze tried to impress the girls by showing off his knowledge of oranges, his family being influential in the citrus fruit industry. When he hands one to Kyoya and states that even the rinds are edible, Kyoya warns that they may be covered in pesticides. Kuze insists that his family doesn't use pesticides, but it's too late. Kyoya is now confidently explaining the other benefits of oranges with the girls commenting on the five year-old's cool factor. Kyoya finishes by saying, "Kuze-kun, surely you knew all that. Right? I hope I didn't talk out of turn."

Ever since, the Captain of the American Football Club has competed with Kyoya Ootori at every turn, so when he appears at Kyoya's lunch table, crew in tow, Kyoya expects some sort of challenge. Crossing his arms, Kuze says, "I want that club of yours reopened, Ootori-san."

Tamaki's loud, "Huh?" covers the brief expulsion of breath from Kyoya, who quickly regains his composure. "That would be tomorrow, Kuze-san."

"No. Today." The words are spoken as command and with them, the other boys begin nodding their heads and commenting.

"Yeah, today."  
"Right now would be good."  
"I can't take it anymore."  
"It's killing me."

Tamaki's confused delight is writ clear on his handsome features, his mouth quivering, his violet eyes welling with tears. "I- I had no idea we were so popular. I never imagined you guys even liked us."

As if on queue, they chant as one, "We don't!"

Tamaki jumps, then slumps in his chair, tugging on one ear. "Oh," he mutters with a pouty lower lip.

Kyoya understands at once. "I see," he says, pushing back his chair and standing. Pulling his smartphone from his inside breast pocket, he taps a few times and says, "Kuze-san, your fiancée is Matsuyama Kanan, a 3rd-year. She visits the club only on occasion but seems to equally favor Takashi-san and Mitsukuni-san, along with Mikamo Marika and Munakata Ayumi."

"Yeah," Kuze says, sounding surprised and a little wary.

Kyoya continues in a relaxed, but knowledgeable manner. "Usami Haruna and Kitamikado Kozue frequent the Hitachiin brothers while Karasuma Ruri makes appointments with Haruhi-san. Kanoya Megumi, Kamigamo Tsubaki, Igawa Shiori and Kimiwada Honoka are but a few of Tamaki-kun's many admirers and my customers…hmmm…that would be Usami Haruna and Kitamikado Kosue. I believe that covers it, yes?" He looks up at the broad-shouldered boy, whose chin is already beginning to sprout the odd whisker.

"Then you know why we're here." Kuze steps into Kyoya's personal space, but the brunet fails to move or react.

"I do, indeed." Kyoya looks towards Tamaki who seems to have question marks sprouting from his head. "Tamaki, do you realize that all of the lovely ladies I just mentioned are the fianceés or girlfriends of the American Football team?"

"Are they?"

"Indeed they are," Kyoya says, a smile playing on his lips.

"But if that's the case, Kyoya, why do they want us to re-open?" Kyoya looks at Kuze, so Tamaki follows suit. "And if you don't like us, why do let your ladies come to the club?"

Kuze steps back from Kyoya and presses both hands against the end of the table, leaning towards Tamaki. "Because you keep them busy after school several days a week. Yesterday, without you and your club, they all came to practice."

"How nice!" the romantically-inclined Host King coos.

"Nice?" Kuze says. "You think it's nice that every time somebody throws the ball or catches the ball, they make girly noises? It's annoying. You think it's nice that every time somebody screws up, one of them bursts into tears? It's embarrassing. Coach is ticked, the cheer squad said it doesn't need the competition and," he pauses, looking around to his buddies before adding, "we can't hang out afterwards like we always do while you're keeping them occupied. Get it, pretty boy?" he leans in closer.

Tamaki's lashes flutter as he involuntarily tips his face up towards Kuze's. With their faces only inches apart, Tamaki murmurs, "You think I'm pretty?"

Kuze entire face burns red as he yanks back. "Aiiieeeeaa!" Muffled guffaws turn into coughs and curses as Kuze's blazing eyes sere his companions.

"Now, now, Tamaki," Kyoya says, enjoying the interplay. "We're not in the salon, so behave yourself." He addresses Kuze, who's taken several steps back, but whose color is still high. "I apologize on behalf of the Host Club if we've committed a faux pas, but the discomfort is all yours, I assure you." The tone is cordial, despite the barb, as he continues, "We'll be back in business providing an attentive ear and genteel events for our guests tomorrow afternoon, three days a week, as always. And now, Tamaki and I have club business to which we must attend." Tamaki rises and, secure in his role as Ouran Academy's No. 1 school idol, holds his head high.

The two Hosts make their way past the group and the curious stares of onlookers. Meanwhile, the flustered team captain curses a blue streak before grousing, "What are you all looking at? You heard them."

As they trudge back to their table, Sato Tomochika, classmate and reporter for the school newspaper, flags them over. "Hey, Kuze-san," the dark-haired boy says.

"What do you want?"

"I'm thinking of writing a story about you for the school paper."

"Oh." Kuze's bad attitude brightens at the prospect of some positive press even though it's well-known that the paper is no more than a gossip rag. "I suppose you'd like an interview for my fans? I'm engaged, but I can't help it if I have admirers, y'know?"

"Ye-ah, right," Sato says, "but I only have one question."

"Which would be…what?"

"Do you think Suoh-san is pretty?"

Tamaki and Kyoya turn at the room's entryway as a commotion erupts behind them. Kuze and his crew are brawling with Sato, Chikage Ukyo and their pals.

"This isn't our fight," Tamaki says, meeting Kyoya's eyes.

"Not today, anyway," Kyoya replies and they leave the refrectory.

Third-year Lunch seating - 1 p.m.

Mori and Honey enter the lunchroom and immediately hear a buzz about a fight that broke out during the previous lunch period. They stand quietly in the aisle, gathering intel.

As a pair of girls passes by, lunch trays in hand, they overhear:

"I heard it was two boys fighting over Suoh Tamaki!"  
"He's so dreamy, it doesn't surprise me."  
"Say, is he gay?"  
"Tama-kun? Well, he is partly European."

The 3rd-years look at one another, turn and leave.

~0~0~

After school hours, the members of the Host Club gather in the prep room to hear the details of Renge's revised plan, the original having been nixed by the Shadow King with the words, "You, minion, are too saucy." Had it been anyone other than Kyoya Ootori quoting William Shakespeare, there would have been blood at being labeled a minion. Instead, Renge merely narrowed her eyes and said, "I'll fix it." And so they wait for their Lady Manager to arrive.

Honey and Mori play shogi at one end of the long worktable while Haruhi occupies the other, reading. Kyoya sits opposite her, his notebook slowly filling with mathematical symbols and equations. Every now and again, the two teens pause to look at one another, smile, and return to their respective tasks. The twins are reclined on their usual sofa in their usual manner, legs entwined, stockinged feet on view. Hikaru watches anime on his smartphone while Kaoru watches Hikaru.

"So, Boss," Kaoru finally says, "Will the costumes we provided still be usable?"

Hikaru looks up and adds, "They better be. Our mother's workshop has done nothing but meet Renge's demands for the last three days."

Tamaki, who has been idly pacing, runs a hand through his hair before laying it across the nape of his neck. He stops in front of the twins, but says nothing. And nothing. And nothing. Honey and Mori pause their game, Haruhi looks up from her textbook and Kyoya stops calculating. Having secured everyone's attention, the Host King declares, "I'm sure it'll be fine. Renge may bossy but she knows what she's doing when it comes to understanding girls and keeping things positive."

"Is someone talking about me?" Renge enters the open door to the room, practically beaming. _Let's get this party started!_

"Where have you been?" Tamaki shouts, arms spread wide.

"Chill out, blondie," comes the snide comeback, immediately followed by a secretive smile. "We are at the center of Ouran Academy's cumulative attention right now."

Tamaki's eyes widen as he turns in place to look at his best friend. "Kyoya, were you aware of this?"

"Of course. Seems you were the reason for the fight we thought wasn't ours, but was, after all. Surely, you realized that's why everyone was staring at you in class this afternoon."

"Well, I am the school idol, after all. But why else?"

Renge intervenes, arms akimbo. "Apparently, something went down at lunch today with Kuze-senpai and now it's all over that the two of you are having a lover's quarrel."

The blond's eyes widen and his mouth drops open. Five seconds pass before the Host King yells at Kyoya, "And you decided not to tell me this?"

The Shadow King sits back in his chair. "I assumed you knew. Everyone else did before the end of the day, or at least they think they know what happened. It's hard to keep track of the story as it changes. I've been following Ouran's underground social network and well, at this point, what's the point of damage control?"

"He's right, you know," Honey says. "It's sort of perfect, actually. Now, it won't be a huge surprise when you admit you are gay, right?" The loli-shota's cheery enthusiasm seems to ease Tamaki's fears, until he considers the rumor at hand.

"What are you talking about?" Tamaki demands. "Kuze-san will kill me!" Tamaki goes to Mori and Honey and falls to his knees. "Mori-senpai, Honey-senpai, you have to protect me." He leaps up, pressing an index finger to his temple. "Or maybe I should call Casablanca and hire Yakuza bodyguards." Gesturing towards Kyoya with said finger he adds, "Of course, I could borrow one of your team, Kyoya, if-"

"No, no...and no," Kyoya says with emphasis. "There's a simpler and more effective solution." Tamaki's fists ball up at his sides, but he holds himself in check, waiting for Kyoya to continue. "Just have your father remind Kuze-san's father that Ouran Academy and Kuze Produce have enjoyed a long and prosperous business relationship. That should stop things cold and Kanan-chan will smooth things over with Kuze-san. This misunderstanding might very well hasten their marriage. Kuze-san's pride is bruised but he'll survive. He always does." At that, Kyoya reveals a rare and genuinely scary smirk.

"But what about the plan?" Tamaki says with obvious disappointment.

"The plan," Renge proclaims, "will proceed as intended." _As if I'd let_ _that_ _go_. She claps her hands twice with excitement. "I never imagined that we'd be getting so much publicity. This should bring lots more guests into the salon tomorrow. Oh, I could eat three bowls of rice!"

Kaoru's voice calls out, "Uh, hell-llo, reality calling, earth to Renge."

Renge soughs out a breath of air and rolls her eyes. "What is it?"

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to actually tell us what the new plan is about?

Hikaru adds, "Or are we supposed to guess?"

Renge turns and eyeballs the twins. _Every day I wonder if this is going to be the day I scream 'Just shut up' out loud instead of in my head._ She chirps, "Of course!" then steps up onto a coffee table. "Well," she says. "Given such short notice, I needed help so I engaged the services of experts in the field of entertainment."

Haruhi groans. "Not that Hollywood director, again."

"Oh no," Renge reassures. "These are premiere planners of extravaganzas, not movies. In fact, you've already seen their work."

"I have?"

Mori says, "You don't mean the twins."

"Not us," says Kaoru.

"We're just the costumers," Hikaru finishes.

"Then who?" Honey says.

Renge looks at Tamaki, who nods his approval for her to continue. "First," she says, "you have to promise you won't go off the deep end."

Kyoya looks at Tamaki over the tops of his lenses while shaking his head. "You can't mean," he begins.

Tamaki interrupts, "They've agreed to help us on the condition that we stop making fun of them. I think that's fair, all things considered." He approaches Renge and helps her down.

She looks up at him. "Allons-y?"

Tamaki replies, "Mais oui."

"Ta-ma-kiiii-" Kyoya warns.

He's silenced by the sound of trumpets playing a Broadway-style intro in the main salon. Everyone rushes out to see the double doors of the salon thrown wide open and a bevy of girls in colorful satin mid-19th century American costumes, replete with high-button boots, spangled hats and be-ribboned tambourines, sashay into the room.

Renge and Tamaki are delighted, the twins watch with amused pride and the rest? Honey and Mori's mouths gape open while Haruhi blinks rapidly. Kyoya stands behind them, glasses glinting ominously.

End ~ Chapter 60 ~ Take it to Heart

* * *

Take it to Heart by Sia [Renge-centric]

VERSE 1  
People are talking. Well, that's nothing new  
And some things will never change.  
Stories are turning away from the truth,  
But people will stay the same.

VERSE 2  
It's only natural that we go on  
To meet with the days that will come.  
It's only natural that we all carry forward,  
So step on, go on;  
Get rising like the morning sun.

CHORUS  
There's no need to take it to heart.  
There's no need to take it to heart.  
Only the truth can tear you apart.  
There's no need to take it to heart.

VERSE 1 (repeat)

VERSE 3  
We'll stand tall and make 'em dream  
And don't let it get you down.  
Make 'em all feel the heart jam,  
But for you I will stand my ground.

CHORUS (2x)

VERSE 1 (repeat)


	61. Cross the Line

Only the archetypal American musical, _Showboat_ , could possibly underscore the theatrics unfolding in Music Room #3. With half the girls dressed as mincing misses and the other half as dashing beaux, the Zuka Club prances before the hosts lip-syncing the opening number, _Cotton Blossom_ , a showcase piece that has the ladies teasing the gents:

"How you love to flatter, you rogues! You rogues!  
Oh, goodness gracious! They're so flirtatious!  
You naughty fellows seem to think you please us  
When you tease us so. You're a reckless lot we know!"

Oddly fitting lyrics despite being written nearly a century earlier, but the song is executed well and when Amakusa Benio high steps her way into the midst of the throng as Captain Andy, Honey and Mori actually applaud.

Benio holds a trumpet beneath one arm while waving a white nautical cap with the other. After a bit of set-up dialogue, she begins to "play" _Ballyhoo_ , a rousing horn solo. Suddenly, the music ceases. Benio is fingering the trumpet but no sound emerges. She finally realizes, drops the horn to her side and looks to the heavens in frustration.

"What," she demands while striking a dramatic pose, "is going on?" She points straight into the spotlight beaming onto her from a balcony that has miraculously appeared behind the audience that is the Host Club.

"Hina-kun is handling the music," an agitated voice responds. "I'm just the light tech."

"Hinagiko!" Benio roars. A small girl with light brown, chin-length hair rushes towards Benio, tablet in hand.

"So sorry, Lady Beni-bara. Everything was working perfectly during the run-through at Lobelia."

Benio's eyes narrow. "Please see to the repairs. There shall, of course, be punishment for your lack of expertise later on." The girl's eyes lower, but a secret smile is on her lips as she moves backwards, bowing as she goes.

The President of the Zuka Club turns to the chorus line and in an overly dramatic tone says, "Mind that none of you face my wrath or you, too, shall receive punishment." Several girls squeal with delight, while others sigh aloud. "Right now, however, my anger is directed at only one person and one person only." She turns and points at Tamaki. "You! You planned this, didn't you, you hafu typical male? You pretended you needed our help, _my_ help, but you only invited us here to make fools of us again, didn't you?"

The startled blond is shaking his head, but Renge is the picture of calm. "Just a minute," she says, waving her hands at the irritated brunette as she saunters towards the willowy girl. "Let's take a breath, shall we?"

"A breath?" Benio says, eyes cast downwards at the honey-blonde. "A breath, you say?" A hand casts a wide swath to encompass herself and her entourage. "I bring my best performers and stagehands here to demonstrate to this half-baked witless group of amatuers what a skilled troupe of entertainers can pull together in just two days and you expect me to breathe when my music cuts out?"

"Now listen up," Renge asserts as her tone shifts into business mode and she steps into Benio's personal space, causing her to take a step back. "As the Manager of the Host Club, I invited you to help us out, not blondie over there, so if there's a problem, you can take it up with me. Tamaki is beautiful, but basically just window dressing. My former fiancé, Kyoya, is the real brains of the outfit so he's the one you'll have to convince, but I like what I've seen and heard so far and it's too late for you to back out now. After all, you signed a contract and as they say in show biz, the show must go on. Right?"

As if in answer, the spotlight goes dark and Kyoya's voice resonates across the room's perfect acoustics. "I beg to differ," he says and all eyes turn towards the sound. After a few moments to allow for their eyes to adjust, they see the Shadow King standing beside the light tech in an elaborate balcony poised at the top of a trellis supported against one wall.

"Don't you like it?" Tamaki says, puppy eyes blinking with disappointment.

"I do not."

"Neither do I, senpai," Haruhi adds. "And where did that balcony come from? I don't remember ever seeing it."

"It's a prop, Haruhi," Kyoya says, handing off the plug to the stagehand before slinking through a trap door and down the supporting trellis. Dusting his hands against one another as he approaches, he notes the open admiration in Haruhi's eyes. "The real question is: why is the Zuka Club here?"

"We need them," Renge says.

"Why?" Mori and Honey and the twins say as one.

Tamaki ignores the question and turns to the performers. "My dear Lady Beni-bara," the blond says in his most soothing tone, "I'm sure your crew will get things on track again very soon. In the meantime, perhaps your troupe would care for some refreshments?"

"Why should I trust you?"

"Please. These are minor issues to be ironed out. Kyoya will change his mind, once he understands how everything fits into the plan. And the rest of you," he says looking at his fellow hosts, "will understand why they're here."

"What plan is that, senpai?" asks Haruhi, nearing the trio.

The blond smiles brightly. "Why, the Coming Out Afternoon Dance Party!"

Haruhi mulls that over for a second or two before saying, "You mean coming out, as in," and she lifts her brows and discreetly points at him from behind her other hand, "coming out?"

Tamaki encompasses both of Haruhi's hands with his own and says with utmost sincerity, "It's alright, Haruhi. In fact, Beni-bara knows all about my recent self-revelation. In fact, she's complimented Daddy on facing the truth about himself."

"You're not my dad, remember?" Haruhi says, pulling her hands away before looking at the Lobelia Academy 3rd-year. "And how 'bout we forget about you trusting us. How do we know we can trust you?"

Benio approaches the brunette. "Fair maiden, I must apologize for our club's behavior when you were last on our campus, though I must tell you that, much to my surprise, the ensuing antics you and your schoolmates provided proved so popular with our audience that they demanded an encore performance. Of course, that was impossible so we told them you were a transgender touring troupe from another prefecture."

Every host seems to sprout question marks from their heads as Haruhi simply sighs. "And they believed you?" she says.

"Why not?" Benio tosses off. "The world is changing, slowly to be sure, but changing nonetheless. Perhaps your mind has also changed about attending our school?" Benio tips Haruhi's chin up with her fingers until their eyes meet.

Kyoya steps in and steers Haruhi away by the shoulders. "That will do, Amakusa-san."

"No need to get over-protective, Ootori-san. I'm sure the maiden can answer for herself."

"Of course I can," Haruhi states, slipping out of Kyoya's hold but taking his hand with her own. "And like I told you then, I have no intention of leaving Ouran, especially now."

Benio's brows arch. "So, I see you've chosen to sublimate your true nature in favor of becoming a simpering ornament, though socially savvy young woman capable of coherent conversations with potential suitors and entertaining important individuals to same."

Haruhi shoots a glare towards the girl and Benio's entourage cowers. Kyoya holds himself still in that singular way of his while the rest of the Hosts and Renge watch with eager anticipation. Haruhi's expression is serious, her voice steady: a vision of the future attorney she will become as she laces her fingers tighter into Kyoya's, though whether to reassure him or herself neither of them can tell.

"I'm not sublimating anything. I'm simply pointing out that, in my opinion, gender is a non-issue when it comes to dealing with people and it doesn't matter how anyone else thinks of me."

"If you say so," Benio responds with aplomb.

"As for becoming a—" She pauses and gives a sideways glance upwards at Kyoya. "What was it she called me?"

Hikaru interjects, "A simpering ornament."

"Though socially savvy young woman," Kaoru adds.

"Capable of coherent conversations with potential suitors," says Honey.

"And entertaining important individuals to same," finishes Mori.

"What do you think of that?" Kyoya says to Haruhi, quite serious.

"I think she's confusing me with someone else," Haruhi says.

The small smile that graces Kyoya's mouth warms his gaze. "Clearly."

Haruhi looks back at Benio. "I don't mean to offend you or your lifestyle, but you seem to be under a number of false impressions about me unless I'm wrong about what you're implying."

Benio huffs, then says in a soft voice, "I'm not implying anything. What I'm saying is that it's always seemed clear to those of us in the Zuka Club that Tamaki is queer, though he's hardly the only one."

The hosts stare at her just as they did when Tamaki said nearly the same thing nearly a year ago and a glint bounces off of Kyoya's glasses. Benio slaps her thigh.

"Honestly," she says with some vehemence. "I thought this impending event was to re-announce the Host Club as an all-encompassing LGBT support unit on this uptight co-ed campus." She stares pointedly at Tamaki. "Well? Am I wrong, Suoh-san?"

All eyes turn to Tamaki, who fumbles with his fingers. "Uh…not wrong," he mutters through pursed lips. "I just wanted to break it to them in my own way."

Renge links her arm with the blond's and says through gritted teeth, "I thought you told them the basic idea."

Tamaki whispers back, "I didn't have a chance."

"What do you mean, you didn't have a chance?" she says, voice slightly raised. "You tell them when you have a hangnail, but you didn't bother to tell them what we finally decided?" She nods her head towards Kyoya, who is staring at them intensely. "He clearly didn't know, or maybe that's why you didn't say anything. What if they don't like the idea? What if- Hey - oh - what the- hang on guys! Where are you going?"

Kyoya, Haruhi, Honey, Mori and the twins are heading to the double doors. Kyoya turns and says, "I'm sorry, Tamaki. You are the President of this club, but making a huge decision like this without so much as a text to tell me as co-founder, is something I can't accept."

A worried Tamaki scrambles up to him. "There wasn't time for another rewrite, so I made an executive decision. You keep telling me I need to hone my executive skills, so I am. I did. Whatever. Please don't be angry, mon ami."

"Don't you 'mon ami,' me!" Kyoya shouts, having come to the end of his patience. "We agreed that the only person coming out was you, by choice. You told us you wanted to expand the club and provide activities where girls of all orientations could relax and be themselves. That is our purpose, as I recall - to make every girl happy."

"I have to agree with Kyo-chan," Honey says, pulling himself up to his full height and sounding his age. "It's not that I disagree with supporting what Benio-chan is suggesting. I think it's a great idea, but you should have asked us, first."

"Yeah," Mori agrees with several nods.

"And while we may put on an act of Brotherly Love," adds Hikaru, "I, for one, am definitely heterosexual."

Kaoru turns to look at his brother with surprise. "What does that have to do with supporting the LGBT community?"

"Think about it, bro. We already play at being gay. If the club openly says we're a safe space for all sexual orientations for all students, people will begin to think it's not just an act, you know?"

Kaoru's look of surprise deepens. "But we've always been open to everyone, Hika. It's just that our previous clientele has been girls who liked boys. We've never turned a boy away and we've never worried about it."

"Sure, we say that, but the only boys who've come here in two years are Ritsu Kasanoda and Shiro Takaoji, as apprentices. Besides, we're the campus idols to the ladies, so how can we continue in that role if there's a genuine question about our sexual orientation? I know Renge the Otaku thinks it's kawaii and Tamaki may not worry about that but-"

Slap! The sharp sound reverberates around the room as Hikaru takes a step back, his mouth dropped open. This is no act and Kaoru's chest is heaving with anger, his cheeks flushed.

"That's enough, Hikaru," the younger Hitachiin says. "Maybe Tamaki should have said something sooner, but the idea about the Host Club becoming a safe space for all students of all sexual orientations is great. It doesn't matter if one person takes advantage of that offer or if dozens do. It's time this campus had a club that recognizes that sexuality isn't something you can put into a box or a label you can hang on someone and say 'done.' You, of all people, get that, don't you? Don't you?" He stares into his mirror image's eyes long and hard.

"I think we should talk about this at home, Kaoru."

"But you'll support this idea, right? We said we'd support the Boss in whatever he chose to do about coming out and just think about all the students we'll be helping. _All. The. Students_."

Haruhi places a hand on Hikaru's shoulder. "Change is tough, but we're the Host Club. We have influence. Who cares what people think of us? We can blaze the trail for a new way of thinking."

Honey and Mori join them. Honey says, "We all came into the Host Club to be our true selves. Tama-chan says that's the meaning of courage. And that means that our real friends will stand by us, plus we'll make new ones."

Mori says, "The rest can go to hell."

Hikaru looks from one friend to the other, then over at Tamaki. "What about the school board? Don't we need their approval?"

"We have my father's support - one hundred percent. He'll deal with them."

Haruhi scans the area for Kyoya, who is nowhere to be seen. Worried that Tamaki's executive faux pas has once more damaged their friendship, she calls, "Kyoya? Where are you?" When there's no answer, she calls again and the other hosts join her. Haruhi looks over to where Benio, Renge and Tamaki wait near the chorus girls. Tamaki looks as worried as Haruhi. Then…

"Here," comes Kyoya's voice as he re-enters the salon from the prep room and walks up to Benio. "Your lighting cues are reset and your music is queued to the beginning of the song. I've taken the liberty of showing Haniko-san and Yukio-san how to use our digital light and sound system. If you and your troupe would like to perform your number for us again, I promise the club will be a receptive audience."

Benio looks skeptical. "And just why would you help us, Ootori-san?"

Kyoya smiles a hostly smile. "Because, dear lady, when an Ootori ultimately sees merit in something happening, it happens." With that, he bows to her, then offers his arm to a pleasantly surprised Renge who takes it.

"But aren't you and Haruhi...?" she says, pressing her free hand to her heart.

"On duty, as of right now," he tells her in a genteel voice before lifting his chin and adding in an authoritative tone, "There are guests in this salon, it's after school and we are Hosts. Isn't that correct, Haruhi?"

"Absolutely," she confirms with a bright smile. She looks at the twins with questioning eyes. "Right?"

"Oh, you," they say in unison and snuggle her between them, which she allows for all of five seconds before struggling out of their grasp.

"Quit!" she demands, "or my boyfriend will remember what you did over the weekend."

The gingers throw their arms up in the air and give Haruhi complete and open passage. Honey and Mori give one another a high five. Haruhi runs to where Kyoya stands and takes his other arm, tugging him downwards until he looks at her and she stands on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. The surprised megane manages to keep his cool as he says, "You do keep me guessing."

"Ahem," Renge says leaning towards the pair. "This is supposed to be a rehearsal, remember?"

"Of course," Kyoya says, straightening his posture and his attitude. Looking towards his best friend, he says, "Tamaki, shall we skip the refreshments until later? We have a grand re-opening tomorrow and not much time to get everything in order. I know Renge is quite accomplished but this is our club, after all. Is it not?"

The unbidden compliment has Renge's eyes filled with stars and the blond King of the Ouran High School Host Club is near tears. "Does that mean you're not angry with me, Kyoya?"

"Of course I'm angry with you, you fool. But once again, you've pushed this club into a better place though how you do it defies the laws of sound business practice."

"Does that mean we're still friends?"

"Don't be an idiot. You helped me figure myself out. Isn't that what best friends do?"

Tamaki looks as if he's about to burst into song or tears or both and Kyoya worries that the blond will fling himself onto the trio as they stand there. Renge saves the day by disengaging her arm from Kyoya's and going into high gear, shouting orders and getting both audience and actors into their appropriate places for a reboot of their number. With the Host Club settled onto settees and the room darkened, the trumpeting intro of _Cotton Blossom_ plays loud and clear.

Are you ready for the show?

End – Chapter 61 - Cross the Line

* * *

Cross the Line by Superchick [Host Club-centric]

Follow the leader, stay in the lines.  
What will people think of what you've done this time?  
Go with the crowd. Surely somebody knows  
Why we're all wearing the emperor's clothes.  
Play it safe, play by the rules  
Or don't play at all - what if you lose?  
That's not the secret, but I know what is:  
Everybody dies, but not everyone lives.  
Everybody dies, but not everyone lives.

CHORUS  
I'm gonna ride like I've got the cops on my tail.  
I'm gonna live my life like I'm out on bail.  
I'm gonna be out front, gonna blaze a trail.  
I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna,  
I'm gonna cross that line. I'm gonna cross that line.

Everybody freeze - don't step over the line.  
Don't stand up, they'll shoot down the first one who tries.  
Try to change the world, they'll think you're out of your mind.  
Revolutions start when someone crosses the line.  
They want us to lie down, give in to the lie.  
Nothing has to change and no one has to die.  
That's not the secret, but I know what is:  
Everybody dies, but not everyone lives.  
Everybody dies, but not everyone lives.

CHORUS (repeat 3x)


	62. Listen

Fujioka Ryoji stands before the heavy glass doors of the Executive Suite of the Ootori Group. It's early Friday afternoon and he's wearing his best navy sports coat and pressed gray slacks, a new white shirt and the "old man" tie Haruhi bought for his 35th birthday. His face is clean shaven, sans makeup, hair braided in a single plait running down his back. His shoes are polished but his nails are not. He looks, for all the world, like an office worker from a less formal branch of business – publishing perhaps, or advertising - certainly not a man who has reason to meet with Ootori Yoshio, Chairman of the Board of the medical zaibatsu.

But there he is.

Amano Seijiro, Chief Administrative Assistant, is engrossed in his work when Ryoji approaches. "Excuse me, but I have an appointment with the Chairman."

"Yes," Seijiro says without looking up, "at two o'clock." He gestures to a nearby area. "You may wait over there, please."

Ryoji tips his head to one side. _Smarmy, elistist brat._ He presses a palm on the polished desk causing Seijiro to stare at it. "Well?" he says to Seijiro in a soft, cordial tone. "Aren't you going to offer me something? Tea or water or at least a current magazine? I'm here to meet with your employer and while your treatment of me might or might not matter to you, it certainly matters to me and I might or might not be inclined to let the Chairman know my thoughts on his assistant's treatment of visitors."

Seijiro looks up, taken aback by the thirty-something's forward manner, but more so by the smooth skin, charming smile and doe-like eyes that seem to be flirting with him. Ryoji is only a few years older than he and prettier than most of the women he's dated. "M-my apologies. What would you like?" he asks, regaining his composure.

Ryoji murmurs, "What are you offering and when do you get off work?" Seijiro's startled expression is satisfying and Ryoji steps back. "Actually, I'm busy tonight, but perhaps another time. Ah!" He claps his hands together. "But here he is."

Yoshio enters the suite with a foreign man of similar age and apparel. They're deep in conversation so the Chairman fails to notice Seijiro's attempts at catching his attention before Ryoji moves towards them. Stopping only when the assistant comes between himself and Yoshio, Ryoji purses his lips and pouts with his arms akimbo, behind the employee's back.

Yoshio and his colleague stop and the foreigner barks, "What is it, man?"

Seijiro bows. "Jackson-sama, I apologize for intruding, but the Chairman's next appointment has arrived and-"

Yoshio says not a word, but a single glare at Seijiro is enough to cause the assistant to cease speaking, turn on his heel and, grabbing Ryoji by the arm, steer him away as the elder Ootori and the foreigner chat softly, Yoshio's expression yielding to pleasantness and soft laughter erupting from Jackson-sama as he's personally escorted from the office. Ryoji watches with interest, genuinely curious about the lives of the men around him. _How does one become the assistant to Ootori Yoshio, or a business associate, I wonder? But, no matter. My main concern today is Haruhi. She seemed upset earlier in the week, then positively fine yesterday. But I'm not taking any chances. Even if she and Kyoya have worked things out, it's clear Kyoya's father knows about me and I'm not going to let that become an issue._

When Yoshio returns, the easy expression is gone, replaced by a grim look. Seijiro stands at attention beside Ryoji, eyes cast downward, awaiting instructions, chastisement or dismissal. It's only when the executive moves past them, saying nothing, that he breathes normally again, waiting until Yoshio is out of sight to say, "The Chairman will see you now."

They head down a corridor to a set of double doors flanked by two men in black suits wearing dark shades. Ryoji is certain he's passing through various detectors along the way as well as being recorded and visually scanned by the bodyguards. _You do know how to intimidate, but I know how to make an entrance._ Seijiro opens a door and steps aside as Ryoji enters like a member of the imperial household. One can almost hear the swish of silk and satin raiment in his attitude of grandeur but alas, Yoshio is on the phone and pays no mind to his guest. _Hmpf. A calculated move, I'm sure._ He turns then, giving Seijiro a death stare so unexpected that the already cowed assistant bows to him, then closes the door as he backs out of the room.

 _Well, well, Ootori, we'll just see whose going to have the final say in this cat and mouse game today._ Instead of waiting in place, as customary, Ryoji saunters over to the wall where the Magritte is showcased. _Kami-sama, this is genuine! And this office is luxe, though the decor could use some warmth._ He takes in the art at close range, appreciating the intimacy of the setting, so unlike seeing a painting at a museum or gallery.

"Do you appreciate art, Fujioka-san?" Ryoji starts at the proximity of the voice, turning to face the man whose garments differ greatly from a few nights earlier. Clad in a bespoke suit of impeccable cut, crisp shirt and silk tie, Yoshio Ootori is groomed to perfection. The grim look is gone. _Uwaa, I can see where Kyoya gets his looks. If only those hard lines around his mouth weren't so…hard._ He turns back to the artwork.

"I'm no expert, but I like this one. It's from the surrealists, isn't it?"

"Indeed, and surreal seems to describe our situation, does it not?"

"Does it?"

"Perhaps we should sit down and discuss the matter – man to man."

Ryoji faces him fully. "It's why I'm here, after all."

Yoshio gestures and Ryoji moves to the sofa that faces the chairs where Kyoya spoke with his father earlier in the week. He waits for Yoshio to sit down before doing so, himself. "You should know," Yoshio begins, "that I've examined your family's situation thoroughly. Your daughter, Haruhi-chan, is a remarkable girl."

Ryoji smiles, thinking of her. "Thank you, although I must confess she takes after her mother in her intelligence and ambition. She's quite determined to forge a future for herself."

"Laudable. Did she tell you that we met the other day?"

 _What?_ Though surprised, his expression remains unchanged. "I know she sprained her ankle and your oldest son provided medical care while your daughter put her up for the evening. Thank you for your attentiveness."

Yoshio waves his hand in a dismissive manner. "It was the least we could do considering the injury occurred during an outing under my family's watch, but I wanted to be sure her injury was healing properly. She should be back on her feet by now, but be sure she is still cautious and continues to take the medications prescribed."

"She is, but she's so independent. She hardly tells me anything about her...adventures." Pause. "When, exactly, did you see her?"

"Wednesday morning. My eldest son is a doctor, but a psychiatrist by training. I am an orthopedic surgeon though I no longer practice."

"No, I don't suppose you have the time if you have to run a medical empire."

"Yes. And you, Fujioka-san, work as a professional drag queen."

 _And there you have it._ Ryoji lowers his eyes, briefly, then meets Yoshio's once more. "You seemed to enjoy the show, among other things." He tips his head to one side and smiles with an upward glance. Yoshio fails to react. _Damn._ "And please, call me Ranka. After our exchange, there's surely no need for formality."

"I'm sure you see it that way, though it wasn't me that you met the other night."

"Oh?" _What on earth are you talking about?_

"The person you met at Club Wasabi is no more than an avatar I employ to escape from the pressures of daily life. I imagine you see yourself in a similar way when you're working. There, you're Ranka. Here, you're Fujioka Ryoji, father of Fujioka Haruhi, a girl in which my youngest son, Kyoya, has taken an interest. You understand the difference, I'm sure." It's Ryoji's turn to not react. "And, no doubt, you'll agree that any feelings that may arise from their dating can only end in heartbreak for her as it is well-known to Kyoya that romantic entanglements during his school years are unwise. He is, after all, an Ootori and will ultimately marry someone that will bring merit to the Ootori family."

"This, I suppose, is what you told Haruhi when you met with her."

"It was the fair thing to do. She's an exceptional girl with a bright future, a future I can keep bright if you assist me in putting an end to this relationship before it goes any further."

A wrinkle appears on Ryoji's smooth brow. "What do you mean?"

"I know she's an honor student at Ouran Academy on scholarship. I know that she must pass an annual exam with the highest score and rank highest in her class in order to maintain matriculation. With my influence, I can ensure that she remain enrolled without such onerous burdens."

"But—"

Yoshio holds up a hand. "It's clear she's academically gifted, so wouldn't the elimination of these criteria relieve the pressure they place upon her? Certainly, there's enough for her to deal with on a daily basis in other ways."

"Such as?"

His hand turns outward. "Her social standing. I don't mean to be harsh, but the children of elite families are a close-knit group, if not close in affections. Having to keep one's nose in a book constantly, coupled with her lack of pedigree, has likely isolated your daughter from her classmates except in the most superficial ways."

"Just-"

"Still," he continues, his fingers closing into a loose fist, "if she can join some activities of a more suitable nature than a Host Club and if she maintains her already exemplary grades, universities will look favorably upon her applications in the future. Moreover, with a few recommendations from well-connected alumni, her chances of acceptance at a prestigious school can be increased from likely to near certainty, perhaps with monetary scholarships attached." His hand drops into his lap and he sits back, his enticement laid out like a banquet before a starving man.

 _There's no doubt he can make happen what he claims. Haruhi could attend her dream school and possibly come out of law school without much debt to pay back. She could be independent._ "You could guarantee this for her?"

"Nothing in life is guaranteed, but I do have influence - significant influence."

"Aren't you concerned about your influence assisting a commoner being taken the wrong way?"

"It would be viewed as academic assistance."

"So, it's fine for Haruhi to be helped in her education, but not for her to date your son."

"They're very different scenarios and she stands to do better accepting my help than fighting my wishes, don't you think?"

 _So this isn't about generosity at all, but control._ "Haruhi has always handled herself with people quite well. She's liked by others and she even seems to have formed some friendships through the very same Host Club you seem to disdain."

"She does possess a natural charm and her spirit can serve her well as an attorney, which she tells me is her career goal."

"It is, in following the footsteps of her mother, Kotoko."

"So you agree that trivial things, like teenage romance, shouldn't get in the way of her studies."

"I don't think romance - love - is trivial, at any age."

Yoshio regards the younger man and shakes his head, slowly. "Love is an illusion puffed up by songwriters and storytellers to make people feel better about the harsher realities of life."

"You can't mean that. I'm sure you love your children."

"One need be neither soft nor sentimental in order to express devotion. As fathers, providing a secure future and preparing a child for the real world is our duty. Mothers can afford to be more emotionally vulnerable."

"Haruhi lost her mother when she was five and I lost the love of my life. I've been both mother and father to her for many years and I admit, my work may not be as upscale as yours but it provides a decent life for us."

"Actually, your daughter defends you and your work. And, in the time I've spent with her, I've determined that she is not a social climber, much to her credit. I understand that you might want to coddle her a bit but it won't help her develop the skills necessary for a career woman in Japan."

Ryoji straightens his back and lifts his chin. "Ootori-san, shall we cut to the chase?"

"Eh?"

"This isn't about Haruhi at all. Your objections are about me, aren't they?"

Yoshio stands, then crosses to the Lalique credenza at one side of the room saying, as he does so, "A perceptive guess, but no. My family is accustomed to gossip and even more accustomed to ignoring it." He stops in front of the elegant piece. "Would you care for a cigar, Fujioka-san?" His tone is decidedly different, almost pleasant, and Ryoji wonders what's come over the man.

"I don't smoke, but feel free if you care to have one yourself. And please...call me Ryoji or, if you prefer, Ryoji-san."

Yoshio returns to the sofa with a lit cigar in hand, taking a long draw and puffing out the smoke with a satisfied look on his face. "Fine. I suppose we have shared more than the usual golf game so you may refer to me as Yoshio-san."

"I appreciate the acknowledgement. But...a doctor smoking? I should think that's something you discourage."

"Disgusting habit, but so many of life's sensual pleasures are less than pure, ne? Kazu never allowed me to smoke at home because of the children and I just got used to limiting myself to smoking at the office."

"Kazu-san?"

"My wife and mother of my children."

"You speak about her as if she doesn't live with you."

"We've been separated for years. She's…" Yoshio pauses. Ryoji says nothing, but the look in his eyes and the way he leans towards Yoshio says he is listening with every fiber of his being. Yoshio leans back and the smoke from his cigar twists and curls between them. "She's away for months on end and has been for years. So you see, Ryoji-san, you and I have more in common than you imagine and yet I harbor no sentimentality when it comes to my family. I simply do what I feel is best."

"And you feel you know what's best for your son even if he feels otherwise."

"Naturally, it depends on the situation. I don't mean to offend you or your daughter. In fact, if she were older and well-regarded in her career, she might make a suitable match for the third son of a prominent family, but she's barely sixteen and Kyoya is in the most critical year of high school."

"Your son is one of the most level-headed boys I know and definitely, the smartest. I'm sure he takes his studies seriously and will be accepted to any college he chooses. As for Haruhi? Let's just say she isn't me, someone who left his family at an early age and never went beyond high school. Neither of them are foolish so why not let them enjoy one another's company?"

"Because," Yoshio reproves, "beng foolish is the definition of being a teenager which is why I maintain a firm hand with Kyoya. He has always known what he can and can not do."

Ryoji cooly responds, "It's my understanding that telling teenagers what they can't do means they'll want to do exactly that twice as much."

"Kyoya has already pushed the boundaries more than his siblings. Take this Host Club business. It's not what I would have him pursue as an extra-curricular activity, but since he's in charge, I allow it. The same is true of his friendships, with some guidance, but I must draw the line when it comes to his involvement with young women."

"So you think you can keep his hormones under your thumb, too? Surely you remember what it was like to be his age. He's a healthy young man who needs to learn how to manage himself, don't you think?"

"If I thought he could do so without my oversight, I would."

 _He can't mean Haruhi, but... Still..._ "They aren't naïve, Yoshio-san, and they aren't careless. I'm proud of Haruhi and I should think you would be of your son."

"He is an Ootori. It goes without saying."

"But sometimes it needs to be said."

"Too much praise spoils a child."

"And too little hurts them." The hard lines around Yoshio's mouth pull his face into a tight mask of displeasure. _Wrong tack. Let's try this…_ "Kyoya-kun has actually been quite helpful in keeping an eye on Haruhi for me this year. When she started at Ouran, I was worried about her fitting in, too."

"And he helped with that?"

"Frankly, when I heard about the Host Club, I was less than thrilled, but Kyoya told me it was only a social events club and that he would look after Haruhi like a big brother. He's kept his word, his distance and kept me updated on her academics. I suppose it was only a matter of time before his friendly interest grew warmer, but at least I know they genuinely care for and respect one another."

"Social events," Yoshio says, as if the words are distasteful. "Kyoya always has been the most contrary of my children, as well as the most ingenious. His future has so much potential but he won't stop fighting me and I don't know how to make him understand that everything I'm doing is to help him." Yoshio pauses, taking several quick drags on the Havana and growing pensive as the smoke is released in a single rush through his nose. "If only Kazu were here. He'd listen to her."

"I don't mean to pry, Yoshio-san, and you don't have to tell me anything, but I am a good listener."

Yoshio considers the younger man sitting across from him, then huffs, his shoulders easing. "You know, I'm beginning to understand why Kyoya feels comfortable when he's with Haruhi. There's something about the way both of you interact with people that sets one at ease. I felt it to some degree with your daughter and particularly with you the other night. Even now, when I know I should be guarded, I feel I can trust you."

"I couldn't work where I do if I couldn't keep secrets, now could I?"

"And yet," Yoshio says, his eyes narrowing, "I suspect that you might use what occurred the other night to your personal advantage. I would, if I were you."

"But you aren't me and using unsavory means to get what I want for myself or for Haruhi leaves me feeling dirty. I am, after all, a cross-dressing entertainer, not a world-class businessman."

Ryoji looks down without waiting to see Yoshio's reaction to the barb. He pulls from his inside jacket pocket a mounted photograph and hands it to his companion who, upon seeing it, looks disturbed. "Don't worry," Ryoji says, "I have no intention of using it to harm either you or your family. I could, but I won't. What happens at the club is confidential for all members. Just tell me something, if I may be so bold as to ask."

Yoshio tilts his head in an unspoken, "What is it?"

"Are you so unhappy in your marriage?"

Yoshio takes another draw and blows out a perfect ring of smoke that floats over them, like a halo over an unseen presence. "Kazu is an amazing woman, a heart surgeon and devoted mother. But that was before her breakdown. I love my wife, but several years ago she began to exhibit symptoms of early onset Alzheimer's. She was only 38 at the time but she began to forget basic skills, even basic people in her life like myself and even her children. Around the same time, she also showed signs of schizophrenia. The co-morbidity was tragic to watch and she could be incoherent for days. I tried to care for her at home and then at a local facility or at least a facility in Japan, but Kazu has always had a strong will and wealth of her own. She decided during a lucid spell that she wanted to live in Switzerland so I had a chalet built near an excellent sanitarium. My eldest son oversees her medical care, along with her European doctor."

"You miss her."

All at once, Yoshio stiffens. "I'm sorry. Forgive my taking advantage of your kindness."

"It's alright. I think I understand. You're lonely."

"Loneliness is a choice. I have my work."

"But you also have a family who, I'm sure, respects and loves you."

"Their respect is enough."

"Is it? I only have one child yet her love sustains me. You have, how many children?"

"Four - three sons and a daughter with a son of her own."

"Then you're quite a lucky man. Even without your wife at your side, which I understand makes life hard, you have exemplary children, meaningful work and material wealth. If you're not grateful for all of that, little else will make you happy."

"Happiness is something I gave up in favor of satisfaction years ago."

"And if Kyoya-kun wishes for something other than what you've planned for him, can you find satisfaction in giving him the chance to pursue it?"

"I see that you and your daughter share similar views on this matter, despite the fact that how I handle my son is not your concern."

"But Haruhi is and I trust her ability to decide for herself what her relationship with Kyoya is meant to be. I think you can trust Kyoya's judgment, too, even if he does argue with you. That just means he's becoming his own man, something I should think you want him to be. Will mistakes be made? Perhaps. Even we, as adults, make them...don't we?" Ryoji drops his chin and looks squarely at the man sitting across from him.

"You may have a point with that." Yoshio sets down the cigar in a marble ashtray. "I suppose learning from one's mistakes has a valid place in one's education, provided the damage can be contained."

"Between the two of us, I know it can." The meta-messages are loud and clear.

"Then we have an agreement." The two men stand and walk to the double doors of the office.

Facing one another, Ryoji smiles at Yoshio who remains somber. "You know, Yoshio-san, despite your gruff demeanor, you aren't cold-hearted." Yoshio's brows lift. "In fact, I suspect your crusty exterior belies a warmer interior than you care to admit."

Yoshio grunts. "Do you?"

"Though I don't expect I'll be seeing you at Club Wasabi again, will I?"

"Ryoji-san, you never saw me there at all."

Ryoji bows in acknowledgement and he straightens, happy to see that the hard lines around Yoshio Ootori's mouth have softened into a rare, enigmatic smile.

End – Chapter 62 – Listen

* * *

Listen by Collective Soul [Ryoji-centric]

Hey, you're now thirsty  
Walking in the desert all alone.  
Hey, you're now searching,  
Lost in isolation from your soul.  
And the bullets you bite  
From the pain you request?  
You're finding them harder to digest.  
When the answers you seek  
Are the ones you destroy,  
Your anger's well deployed.

CHORUS  
Hey, why can't you listen?  
Hey, why can't you hear?  
Hey, why can't you listen  
As love screams everywhere?

Hey, you now hunger,  
Feeding your mind with selfishness.  
Hey, you now wander  
Aimlessly around your consciousness.  
When your prophecies fail…  
When your thoughts become weak,  
Silence creates necessity.  
And you're clothing yourself  
With the shields of despair,  
Your courage now impaired.

CHORUS

You crucify all honesty.  
No signs you see do you believe.  
And all your words just twist and turn,  
Reviving just to crash and burn.  
You're fighting 'til the bitter end.  
If only your heart could open.

Open. Listen.

CHORUS (2x)


	63. Here I Am

Tamaki is asleep and dreaming. The king of the Ouran High School Host Club is a dreamer in many ways when awake, but always when asleep and always in vivid color. He's been told it's a sign of intelligence, but what does it mean when you keep having the same dream?

It's the medieval one with Kyoya and himself armored and on horseback, jousting. The same tents dot a green field, banners swaying and fluttering in the wind. The viewing stands are still full of people making crowd-like noises. The Lady Haruhi, dressed in period garb, waits there with her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Renge and Lady Ranka. Sir Ritsu is still the chevalier d'honneur who announces the tourney with Kyoya and Tamaki facing one another at the lists.

The ground still trembles from heavy hoof beats, both knights leaning forward, lances balanced in the rests, their aim to unseat the other without causing mortal injury. The harsh clang of metal on metal vibrates the air and though contact is made by both contestants, neither is unseated. The knights charge once more and the clash of weapons sounds again. Sir Kyoya is unseated and thrown to the ground. Sir Tamaki brings his horse to a stop and dismounts, prepared to battle on foot only to find Kyoya without helmet or gauntlets, bleeding out and on the verge of death.

In every dream thus far, Tamaki has removed his own helmet and gloves, dropped to his knees and begged Kyoya to stay with him before kissing him deeply, but not this time. This time, he merely lifts his visor as he looms over the brunet and shouts, "Don't you dare die on me, Ootori Kyoya!"

The brunet's eyes flutter open. "Changing the script, Suoh?"

"That's right. Haruhi needs you and so does the Host Club."

"What about you? Don't you need me?"

"Not as much as I thought. You're my best friend, Kyoya, and I love you, but if we can't be together the way I want to be together, I have to move on. Others might be interested." Kyoya looks miffed giving Tamaki a much needed sense of satisfaction. Extending a hand, he helps Kyoya to his feet while the twins stand nearby.

Hikaru says, "It's a good thing you're okay, senpai."

"Absolutely," agrees Kaoru. "And it's pretty amazing that you've been able to keep your glasses on throughout this entire battle."

Said glasses glint. "I wouldn't be so cheerful over my narrow escape from death, you two," Kyoya warns. "I haven't yet decided if I'm going to punish you for your interference in what should have been a private matter." Exclamation points flash over the heads of the gingers.

A new voice breaks through. It's Haruhi's, who now stands beside them. "Why the fuss? It all worked out, didn't it?"

But instead of expecting Kyoya to answer, everyone turns to Tamaki. "Didn't it?" they ask, en masse.

The blond looks at each expectant face then up into the leafy bower, considering how to answer when the owl he spies between the branches hoots and says, "Music on. Ohayo, young Master." Tamaki's brow knits as the entire scene dissolves in a flash and he wakes up. It's Saturday and morning sunlight streams into his bedroom as the draperies are pulled aside. Tamaki lay awake contemplating the dream while staring at the ceiling.

 _It has worked out, hasn't it? I've come out to myself and my closest friends, the Host Club's reopening was a grand success, Kyoya and Haruhi are happy together, the twins are still alive, Honey-senpai seems happy and Mori-senpai…_ He pauses. Mori is an interesting person to think about.

He remembers the quiet kiss they shared in Music Room #3. It was simple and sweet but he didn't feel for Mori anything near what he felt for Kyoya when they kissed and yet, it was comfortable being with him. _Mori-senpai is confident in who he is. Maybe he can answer my questions about being gay in Japan._ _Hm._ He throws off the covers and leaves his king-sized bed. As he stretches, Antoinette rises from her place on the floor beside the bed and does the same. The bedroom door opens and his breakfast tray arrives, carried by none other than Maezono Shima.

"Ohayo, Shima-san. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Ohayo, Tamaki-sama. Today is an important day as I've told you many times this week. Your father is bringing a guest for lunch and I wanted to be sure you were up and about."

"May I ask who's coming to visit?"

"You may ask - again - but I don't know the details except to tell you that your father wishes you to prepare something for the piano."

Tamaki sighs aloud. "Very well. I guess I'll just practice until they arrive."

"That sounds wise. You haven't touched the grand all week. It'll be good to hear you play." The woman bows and leaves.

He breakfasts while journaling in his laptop and listening to Maman's CD.

 _5 Feb, Sat  
Dear Maman, __It's been such a busy week I can hardly believe it's only_ been a week.  
After much soul searching I have decided not to pursue my romantic feelings for Kyoya.  
He's in love with Haruhi and I love them both so very much that I want them to be together.  
Because of that, I will do what I can to make sure that they are.  
And if I can't love Kyoya as a lover, I will love him as a friend.  
It will be difficult, but I will make this sacrifice because it's the right thing to do.  
I know you would be proud of me.  
We're to have a special visitor today, so I must go now and practice.  
Remember that I miss you and love you to the moon and back.  
René  


He showers and dresses, choosing a lightweight black hoodie and a pair of houndstooth woolen slacks. He leaves the matching suit jacket for later but goes whimsical with his Adventure Time Doc Martens and a beaded choker. _No need to be stuffy, after all._ After considerable time spent on his coif, he heads downstairs to the conservatory where the Yamaha awaits his touch. He eschews his piano coach's study pieces, preferring to play from memory for his upcoming audience. Soon the strains of "Für Elise" waft through the west wing of the second Suoh mansion.

The morning passes and Beethoven gives way to Chopin, then Lizst and Schumann. The pieces vary in mood but all are beloved, allowing Tamaki to fully experience the music as the instrument resonates with an otherworldly life as he manipulates the monstrous soundboard. The magic of the most melodious percussion instrument or the most percussive string instrument (depending on one's point of view) isn't lost on the hafu, who understands that like the piano, he too is a crossbreed whose beauty can not be denied.

He gives himself over to the music, his emotions rising and falling with the mood of each piece, the instrument playing him as much as the reverse. It has always been so. Absorbed as he is, he fails to notice time passing or the entrance of his father and the important guest who stand by, silently listening.

It isn't until he's in the midst of Debussy's "Claire de Lune" with its sweetly haunting motifs that he becomes peripherally aware of a figure standing behind him. Assuming it's Yuzuru, Tamaki continues to play, his eyes half-closed, focused on some dream state evoked by the music. When the piece is done, he sits quietly, still hearing and feeling the after-effects.

"C'était magnifique, mon fils," a feminine voice says low and Tamaki smiles, staring at the keys.

"You know," he says, "sometimes I think I hear Maman's voice after I play the piano. It's as if her voice is an echo of the music. Just now, for example-"

"You heard me?" the feminine voice asks and this time, the blond's eyes widen and he turns at the waist, his jaw dropping open as he sees standing beside his father, the very person to whom he wrote only a few hours before.

"Maman?" he whispers with incredulity. "Maman?" he repeats again, a bit louder. "Maman!" he cries, joy in his voice as he swings his long legs around the bench and springs up in order to crush the petite woman in his arms while they laugh and cry and speak in rapid French.

"My sweet René!/How are you here?  
Does it matter?/You look wonderful.  
So do you./I can't believe this!  
So handsome./So beautiful."

When they both chime, "C'est bon!" they are breathless with ruddy, tear-stained cheeks, their hearts filled to capacity. Yuzuru enjoys their reunion, wishing he could have arranged it sooner but glad he could arrange it at all.

"Father," Tamaki says, growing serious and reverting to Japanese, "Does grandmother know about this?"

"No, nor will she unless you tell her."

"So this is a temporary visit."

"For now, mon petit chou," Anne-Sophie says, taking Tamaki's hands in her own. "But your papa is working on a plan to bring me here permanently."

"And your health?" Tamaki grows even more serious, switching back to French. "Is your illness worse or better?"

"It seems the Ootori Medical Group needs volunteers to test a new drug that may reverse the symptoms of Lupus or even eradicate them."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!"

"Indeed," Yuzuru says, using French to make conversing easier. "Docteur Ootori suggested that your mother might be a suitable candidate for his trial though how he knew of her condition I'm not sure."

"I am. It must have been Kyoya," Tamaki says, feeling a wealth of gratitude towards his friend. "But why didn't you tell me Maman was the important guest?"

"I wasn't certain your mother was up for the trip or that she would arrive this morning. I didn't want to get your hopes up. Please forgive me, Tamaki, for so many things." Regret tinges Yuzuru's words.

Tamaki drops his mother's hands and faces his father. "There's nothing to forgive. Je t'aime, Papa," he says, then bows deeply. Yuzuru smiles and waits for Tamaki to straighten before taking his son into a warm embrace.

Anne-Sophie's eyes glisten and when Yuzuru notices, he extends his arm bringing her into their loving circle. Father and son touch foreheads while mother places a hand over Tamaki's heart and her head against the heart of her beloved Yuzuru. They sway with a natural cadence, content to remain just so, their embrace easing only when lunch is announced.

Yuzuru steps back completely, but Tamaki and Anne-Sophie seem unable to break contact, so they walk hand in hand into the adjoining greenhouse where the temperature is balmy and a small table is set for three amidst tropical greenery that gives the appearance of summer indoors while February's frosty air fogs the glass, steamy rivulets marking the heavy panes.

They dine on foie gras sauteed with daikon, followed by clear consommé and wild eel served with black truffles. The fusion of Japanese and French cuisine is a perfect blend of flavors, beautifully presented and prepared according to Yuzuru's precise instructions.

The meal is delicious but Tamaki barely eats; he's too excited. He contains himself, however, not wishing to overtax his mother's fragile constitution. Instead, he answers her questions about his studies at Ouran, his wonderful friends and, naturally, the doings of the Host Club.

"You mean to tell me," she says, "that girls pay money just to sit with you, chat and have dessert?"

"Oh, but it's much more than that, Maman. We offer a haven of beauty and culture, and now we openly support male and female guests of any sexual orientation and preference."

"How tolerant and good of you and your friends. Love is for everyone, ne c'est pas?"

"Well, yes." _Papa wouldn't tell Maman about me without telling me first. That means I'm going to have to tell her, today._ His brow creases for a few seconds and then he's smiling again.

"I imagine," the elder Suoh says at last, "you two would enjoy some time by yourselves and I have a telephone call to make. So," he says, addressing Anne-Sophie, "if you will excuse me, I will leave you in the care of our beautiful and charming son."

"Very well, cherie, but don't be long." They exchange a warm look. Taking Anne-Sophie's hand, Yuzuru turns it over and kisses the inside of her wrist, an intimate gesture that causes her to blush and Tamaki to see first-hand the passion that still burns between his parents. It pleases him.

"Shall we walk a bit, Maman?" Tamaki asks once Yuzuru is gone and she nods. They stand and as the servants enter to clear the table, Antoinette bounds into the space, heading straight for Anne-Sophie who cries out, "Mon dieu, Hachibei!"

Tamaki calls, "Arrêtez!" and the golden retriever stops in place and sits, tail swinging back and forth. "Maman, may I present Antoinette. Papa told me you sent her here to keep me company."

"Mais oui. She's Hachibei's daughter and the spitting image of her, but it seems, much more obedient. My Hachibei would never be so polite as to stop on command. Allons," she calls, and dog approaches, tongue lolling in a wide grin as Anne-Sophie bends over to stroke the silky head, her voice taking on a scolding tone when she tells Antoinette, "Your maman is unruly." Antoinette licks her nose and Anne-Sophie laughs.

Tamaki tells her, "In Japan, good manners are everything, even for dogs. Shima-san had her specially trained so I could keep her here, otherwise she'd have to live at the stables."

"Ah, do you have horses here?"

"I'm afraid this estate is too small for such things, but if grandmother isn't home, we might be able to sneak over to Papa's house and go riding later." His enthusiasm is boundless.

"It's been a long time since I've ridden a horse."

"I'll let you ride my horse, Mirabelle. She's very gentle. Papa can join us, too."

"We'll see, René, or should I call you Tamaki now?"

"It doesn't matter to me, Maman. Just hearing your voice, seeing your face and holding your hand is making me so very happy."

The pair strolls along the brick path that meanders through the greenhouse while Antoinette trots behind. They pause every now and again to admire one of the many exotic plants or wild parrots that flit in and among the foliage. At one point, they pause in front of a splendid array of orchids that seem to grow on vines hovering in midair. Tamaki snaps off a blossom with its stem and hands the delicate orange and pink flower to Anne-Sophie who considers it thoughtfully, then tucks it behind her ear.

They continue walking, chatting about Anne-Sophie's life in France and it is here that Tamaki first hears the name Tonnérre Eclair. He thinks she must be a nice person if she is nice to his mother. As they re-enter the conservatory, Tamaki says, "You know, I didn't realize it was you standing behind me while I was playing before. I hope you liked what you heard."

"Oh, I noticed some sloppy habits, but nothing too terrible."

"Will you correct me by demonstrating the proper way to play what you heard?"

"I would, of course, but I'm afraid I don't have them memorized as you do. I only know that old sonatina."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Maman. I'm just so excited that you're here. If I'm expecting too much—"

"Nonsense. But let's chat a while longer and then I'll play that for you?"

"Please."

They settle onto a tufted velvet sofa near the piano, Tamaki laying his head against his mother's shoulder, one large hand ensconced between her two smaller ones resting in her lap.

"So tell me, René. What's on your mind?"

"What do you mean? I'm perfectly fine now that you're here."

"Perhaps, but I could always tell when something was troubling you. You know you'll feel better if you talk about it, cherie."

Tamaki thinks about Haruhi and Kyoya, and himself being homosexual. "Funny, but all this week I've been wishing I could talk to you but I never dreamed you'd actually appear."

"Yet here I am, so tell me. Maman is listening."

End – Chapter 63 – Here I Am

* * *

Here I Am by Leona Lewis [Anne-Sophie–centric]

This is a crazy world. These can be lonely times.  
It's hard to know who's on your side most of the time.  
Who can you really trust? Who do you really know?  
Is there anybody out there who can make you feel less alone?  
Sometimes you just can't make it on your own.

CHORUS  
If you need a place where you can run.  
If you need a shoulder to cry on, I'll always be your friend.  
When you need some shelter from the rain,  
When you need a healer for your pain,  
I will be there time and time again.  
When you need someone to love you, here I am.

If you have broken dreams, just lay them all on me.  
I'll be the one who understands, so take my hand.  
If you reach emptiness, you know I'll do my best  
To fill you up with all the love that I can show someone.  
I promise you you'll never walk alone.

CHORUS

Everybody needs somebody who they can pour their heart and soul into.

CHORUS

Here I am.


	64. Welcome to the Club

**A/N: Want to have some fun here? Play the accompanying song at the cue.**

Haruhi opens her eyes on Sunday morning and snuggles back under the covers. Boo-chan is tangled between her legs and she rescues the stuffed dog, clutching it to her chest with a smile. The underdeveloped, apathetic, asexual girl that began attending Ouran nearly a year ago has definitely changed. She is officially sixteen with a curvier figure and blossoming sexuality, in love with an amazing young man who shares her feelings and part of a club that supports a goal she admires.

Her gambit on Friday afternoon had paid off. No one had seen it coming, not even Kyoya, but that's exactly how she'd wanted it to be – totally on her head if things didn't work out. Thank kami-sama, they had. She's content. No, it's more than that. She's unexpectedly for the first time in a long, long time, sincerely and completely - happy.

**Friday afternoon…**

The school day ends and the red rope that has kept visitors at bay has been moved to one side with Aijima and Hotta standing guard at the salon doors in their usual black garb. The large placard beside the opposite door reads in ornate script:

The Ouran Host Club's First Ever  
Coming Out Dance Party  
4-5:30 p.m.  
Welcome one and all!

Upon seeing the sign, Honey and Mori pause.

"Wow," says Honey. " _You're_ not coming out in public today, are you Takashi?"

"I'm not ready for that step, but I won't deny it, either. Tamaki deserves that."

"I think you like him a lot, don't you?"

"Maybe. Let's go." The 3rd-years pass through the salon doors. Shortly thereafter, the twins arrive and seeing the sign, look at one another.

Hikaru is quiet then says, "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, bro."

"I know. You already apologized twice."

"But I really am sorry. You've always accepted me as I am, one hundred ten percent, but I guess I didn't realize that I only accepted you ninety-nine percent."

"And now?"

"I"m still not one hundred _ten_ percent, but at least I'm hitting one hundred."

"It's a start," Kaoru teases with a grin before giving his brother a warm hug. Parting, they head to where Aijima and Hotta stand side by side.

Hikaru cocks his head, saying, "Kyoya-senpai told us he was going to ask you to help out. Do you really think we need that much protection?"

"We hope not, young sirs," says Hotta, "but we must take every precaution to see that our young master and his friends are safe considering your club may be hosting additional guests of unknown intention."

"That's true," Kaoru says, nodding.

"You think someone would show up just to make trouble?" asks Hikaru.

Aijima shakes his head, saying, "Rest assured, retribution will be swift and immediate without any disruption to your event. That is our mission."

"Sounds good to me. Just remember that we can handle ourselves..." Hikaru begins.

"And anyone else who decides to mess with the Host Club," Kaoru finishes.

Hotta replies, "We're honored to simply assist our young Master and his distinguished friends." The two men bow to the twins who reciprocate, then enter the salon.

As the clock tower chimes three forty-five, guests begin to arrive: Host Club regulars with friends in tow, Zuka Club fans, curiosity seekers and members of other clubs like the Black Magic Club, who have ditched their own meeting to see what the fuss in Music Room #3 is all about, plus others.

When Kuze Takeshi and the American Football team show up, Hotta and Aijima eye one another.

"What do you think, Hotta-san? Should we allow them in? You remember what Kyoya-sama."

"I do, but he also said that anyone could enter if we thought they were there for the right reasons."

The two men cast their most deadly glares at the group, all of whom look away or cower, all but Kuze, who stares back, much to his credit. "We're here to be with our girlfriends," he says. "We won't embarrass them, okay?"

"Very well," Aijima says, "Be certain you don't or you'll be answering to us, as well as the present members of the Black Onion Squad."

Kuze blanches but nods, then waves in his crew.

The salon is dimly lit, the chandeliers on low while the wall sconces imitate flickering candlelight, giving the enormous room an antique music hall feel. Instead of tea and cakes, there's a banquet table where old-fashioned lemonade and fresh-baked madeleines are being served. Self-serve cotton candy and popcorn machines dot the room offering simple treats from a simpler time. A carnival atmosphere pervades the space and the arriving guests seem pleased.

A stage is mounted at one end of the salon with the prep room accessible directly behind the rear curtain, said room serving as a dressing and staging area. The stage itself is only eighteen inches high, but fairly deep, with a red velvet curtain trimmed with heavy gold bullion fringe drawn closed beneath a trompe l'oeil proscenium. Garden chairs serve as audience seating and a group of girls is seated there watching the large viewing screen dropped in from the ceiling in front of the curtain, projecting images of the Host Club and their guests from various events throughout the school year.

As the clock tower chimes the four o'clock hour and the hosts are still nowhere to be seen, the anticipation in the room grows palpable and soon the word "Show" is being repeated with hand claps by one and all. Just as excitement is on the verge of becoming annoyance, Tamaki's voice is heard, amplified above the crowd:

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Ouran Host Club welcomes you to Music Room Three where we have always sought to make every girl happy, as well as the occasional boy. Now, in an effort to promote friendship and tolerance towards all and in collaboration with the Zuka Club of St. Lobelia's Girls' Academy, we're proud to announce our support of the LGBT community. We welcome members of all sexual orientations into the salon and hope that today is the first of many visits you enjoy here. And now…on with the show."

Applause sounds as the opening bars of Showboat's _Are you Ready for the Show?_ begin to play, the screen retracts, the curtain parts and the Zuka chorus girls enter from either side of the stage in their finery. More guests scurry to find seats in the audience, while others hang back, uncertain if they're going to stay. Low murmuring can be heard at the back of the room as the girls perform, but once Benibara takes the stage, she commands everyone's attention as Captain Andy. When the musical number ends, polite applause ensues and several of the standing guests head for the salon doors. That's when the quaint sounds of early American musical theater end and an electronic boom and DJ Manian's intro to the house song, _Welcome to the Club_ , grabs their attention.

**::cue song::**

Everyone stops moving and turns back towards the stage area, waiting to see what happens next. Some draw closer while others look around and into every corner. The chorus girls bang their tambourines in time to the music and when the heavy beats begin, they run out into the crowd and throughout the room generating smiles and hand clapping. Meanwhile, the seven hosts emerge from backstage to take their places on the apron. When the spotlights come up on them, their regulars scream, squeal and nearly faint to see them in seductive club wear that makes them appear far older than their high school selves. Those unfamiliar with Host Club strutting are in awe while those who are jealous of their ikemen status try not to let it show. They demonstrate their dance skills, proving that they not only know to waltz but can bust a move with the best of them.

Finally, when the DJ shouts, "Forward! Out of your chair!" all seven jump off the stage, heading into the audience to draw their regulars onto the dance floor where they cavort with their guests and friends, both male and female. The spotlights previously trained on the stage rotate away and onto the crowd, casting beams of criss-crossing light through the salon, as disco balls attached to the bottom of the now fully lit chandeliers spin making the entire room appear to move.

The song goes on and as the students dance and laugh, word spreads that something amazing is going on in Music Room #3. Only a few minutes into the event, there's already a line outside the salon to get in and Aijima and Hotta are pressed into genuine gate-keeping duty. Inside, the music continues to pump it up and the crowd is fully engaged answering aloud to pre-recorded DJ calls with "Crank it Up" and responding to the Operator's command of "Jump!" as a single unit. Oh yeah, the Coming Out Dance Party is in full swing, the room awash in adolescent sweat, pheremones and joy - just as planned and as it should be.

**::fade song::**

Ten minutes of house music and non-stop dancing leave the participants breathing heavy, but healthy and glad they came. As the last song fades, the hosts return to the stage and spread out across the apron, as before. Tamaki grabs and handles a wireless mike like an experienced showman.

"Hell-lo Ouran! Wow. I'm sure I speak for the club when I say that we never expected this kind of turnout, but we appreciate it, right guys?" The hosts display thumbs up, fist pumps and other signs of approval as the girls, and some of the boys, hang on every word and move. "Well, we wanted to do something different and we felt it was time for the Host Club and this campus to take a stand for those who are sometimes dismissed, ridiculed or simply ignored. We're still the Host Club you know and love but we're opening our doors and our support to all sexual orientations."

There's a smattering of applause and a sole, "That's fucked up." The naysayer is quietly and immediately whisked away by two Black Onion Squad members.

Tamaki continues, unaware and undismayed. "And to help us kick off our new format, I've invited a relative of mine who I know you're going to give the same warm welcome you always give us. Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome Jin'Ichi."

Gasps are heard and those who might not know the name, surely recognize the familiar face to the Tokyo teen scene that takes the stage, leaving the girls sighing and the boys staring. Jin'Ichi is Tamaki's nineteen-year-old cousin and a singer with the seven-man steampunk band known as Sprokkit. His androgynous good looks, face makeup and cool steampunk costume add glamour and legitimacy to the club's new message rollout.

The young star gushes over his mike about the beautiful Ouran campus and the equally beautiful Host Club. His confidence is charismatic and the packed room is fully attentive. "I am," he says, "so proud to be here today as the Host Club and the Zuka Club join forces in spreading a message of tolerance and friendship between teens. It's an important one and not something traditional Japan is ready to embrace but if we, the youth of Japan, lead by example, we can change that." The applause this time is sincere. "And now I'd like to introduce you to the leader of the troupe of young women who opened today's show - Lady Benibara of the Zuka Club!"

The hosts exit the stage as Benibara enters wearing a purple and black silk pantsuit with a long black cape, her hair slicked down, her makeup pale with exaggerated dark eyes, red vamp lips and a silver sparkled fedora and single glove, ala Michael Jackson. The crowd gawks with oohs and ahhs.

She says, "The Zuka Club will now perform a scene from our upcoming drama at St. Lobelia's – Demon of the Night, a modern take on the tale of Nosferatu. I, of course, will be playing the lead role and the rest of the cast will be the maidens living at the convent school where Nosferatu comes to take their innocence. Watch," she exclaims lifting her arm above her head before letting it slowly drop to her side, "and be amazed." She grabs her cape with one hand and turns, whipping the cape around her before disappearing behind the curtain's opening at center stage, followed by Jin'Ichi.

Theatre returns as the velvet panels part revealing a moonlit girls' dormitory. Nosferatu skulks in and the girls awaken with shock and terror at "his" presence. The vampire hypnotizes them into whirling trances as one chosen girl is inexplicably drawn to the night beast who, after a dramatic pas de deux, bends her backwards over "his" arm and bites her neck – maybe for real – sending the girl into ecstasy – maybe for real. The shocked but fascinated crowd roars their approval.

After multiple curtain calls and receiving several bouquets of flowers from the Lobelia Academy attendees, Benibara and her troupe leave the stage and Jin'Ichi returns, saying, "Let's hear it for St. Lobelia's Zuka Club!" More applause. "And now, ladies and gents, it's time to acknowledge the primary organizer of today's event – the Manager of the Host Club – Houshakuji Renge!"

A loud rattling and roar is heard as Renge rises on her motorized platform right in front of the stage. She's laughing maniacally, seated on a metal stool dressed in a charcoal gray bustier dress that's gathered short in front but goes long in back with a trailing bustle of red lace. Her black-and-red striped tights dip into red high-button boots and she balances an open, black lace parasol on one shoulder.

"Well, boys and girls, are we having fun yet?" she asks with glee through her mike. Getting a less than expected response, she glares and repeats, "I said, Are We Having Fun Yet?" and the response is louder and more positive. "Okay then," she chortles. The platform descends and she joins Jin'Ichi on stage where she continues, "Now I know you loved seeing the boys in their clubbing outfits but wait until you see what's next. It's time for Jin'Ichi to do what he does best and for the hosts to help him do it." Renge steps to one side of the stage to serve as narrator, as seven solo spotlights hit the stage apron from above and the opening bars to Sprokkit's current hit song vamps.

"Here are soon to be grads, Haninozuka Mitsukuni and Morinozuka Takashi!" The cousins step into their spots with Mori dressed as a mad inventor wearing a dark shirt with rolled up sleeves, a leather apron, heavy boots and outrageous goggles strapped to his forehead. He holds blueprints in his hand. Honey is a ragamuffin child complete with tattered clothes, plaid cap and dark eyeglasses with round lenses.

"Next we have our own inimitable Hitachiin twins – Kaoru and Hikaru." The twins are tradesmen in identical outfits consisting of form-fitting dove gray trousers, collarless black shirts, vee-necked gold brocade vests, riding boots and a strange assortment of metal accoutrements and tubing wrapped round their chests whose purpose no one knows though it certainly looks awesome. To differentiate, they've dyed and spiked their hair: white for Hikaru and purple for Kaoru - just because.

"And now we come to our fearless leaders…our director, Ootori Kyoya, and our resident King of the Host Club, Suoh Tamaki." The best friends enter and take the spots left and right of the central one.

Kyoya is decked out as a fine gentleman with a short-waisted heavy black brocade jacket over a white shirt heavily ruffled with lace at collar and cuffs, slim black trousers and soft black leather boots that flare above the knees. One hand holds an ivory-handled cane while the other wears an elbow-length metal glove with articulated fingers, the piece covered with intricate gears and knobs.

Tamaki wears similar trousers and cuffed boots, covering all with a long, bronze leather coat liberally decorated with colorful military medals. The center zipper is undone, offering an occasional glimpse of bare, toned chest. And, of course, his love of top hats ensures that he has one now, adorned with metal goggles, varied geegaws and a real clock that runs backwards.

When all six boys are in line dressed to reflect the costumes of Sprokkit, Jin'Ichi reappears in his own costume of olive knickers and brown leather belt, black buckled knee-high spats over Victorian brogues, and a gray long-sleeved, tucked in henley unbuttoned just so with dark leather suspenders. His brown derby boasts several peacock feathers that curl upward and backwards a full ten inches and shiny brass opera glasses jutting out from the brim.

The choreography Jin'Ichi has taught the hosts isn't as complicated as that of his professional colleagues, but it's enough to impress those present. The Host Club regulars rush the stage, creating a mosh pit where they squeal, cry and swoon as the hosts behave like a Japanese boy band while lip syncing Sprokkit's hit song, "Let's Steam Up the Windows."

The audience's appreciation following their stint is loud and long, but it finally ebbs and the girls up front begins to look around, giving the hosts and one another questioning eyes. Renge returns center stage.

"I see you've noticed someone is missing from this lineup, but before that host re-joins us, I'd like to thank Jin'Ichi for being with us today." The crowd cheers its approval. "We're sorry to say goodbye, but I know you have another engagement so we'll let you go." The pop star is accompanied through the salon and out the doors by Black Onion Squad members, a suitably sized crowd of groupies tagging along.

"Now," Renge continues after he leaves, "as I was saying-"

"Uh, Renge-chan?" says Honey, tapping on her shoulder. When the blonde looks at him, he points stage right. Standing just outside the curtain at the edge of the stage is Haruhi, only she's not wearing her expected steampunk costume and she hasn't waited for Renge's cue. Her appearance clearly confuses and startles the hosts as every mouth drops open in clear surprise and even Kyoya's eyeglasses glint, just a little.

It's Mori, reticent Mori, who sums up their feelings best with a simple question asked with a deadpan face and no expression. "What the fuck?"

END – Chapter 64 – Welcome to the Club

* * *

Welcome to the Club by DJ Manian [Host Club–centric]

It's alright.

You're ready for the night of your life.  
Stars will shine so bright.  
They say we're dancing the stress away. Hey, hey.  
This beat gets underneath your feet.  
Right now, together we will meet.  
This place will blow your mind away. Eh, eh.

CHORUS (2x)  
Welcome to the club now!  
Gonna pump it up now.  
This is an emergency!  
Music is my galaxy.  
Welcome to the club now!  
Everybody's up now.  
We've got it going on  
Until the break of dawn.

BRIDGE  
So put the record on.  
On, on, on, on!  
O-O-O-O-On!  
So put the record on. (2x)  
On, on, on, on!  
O-O-O-O-On!  
So put the record on.  
P-P-P-Put the record on.  
To the club now! (echoed)

Right now we're standing here in line.  
Open up the door, Mr. Frankenstein  
'Cause we're here to dance the night away. Hey, hey.

(Spoken) Forward! Out of your chair!

CHORUS (2X)

Operator! (rap and rhythm follow)  
To the club now.  
Jump!  
To the club now.  
Forward! Out of your chair!

CHORUS

So put the record on.


	65. Shut Up and Dance

The Ouran Host Club's Coming out Dance Party is in full swing. Renge's planning, along with Tamaki's flair for the dramatic, has crafted an event those attending will not soon forget and their message is getting across - that's the main thing. "To Make Everyone Welcome" has replaced "To Make Every Girl Happy," the banner displaying that revised sentiment visible to one and all. A celebrity appearance, dance music, dramatic scenes and several changes of costume have been handled with ease and yet, now, every host is nervously watching the person standing to one side of the makeshift stage.

It's Haruhi, but not the Haruhi they've come to know but, rather, the Haruhi who first walked into Music Room #3 complete with baggy sweater, oversized eyeglasses and mussed hair. Even her posture is reminiscent of that first, awkward day brought on, perhaps, not just by the unbelieving stares of her fellow hosts, but of hundreds of eyes sizing her up and wondering: wtf?

Tamaki is having a barely-controlled conniption while Kyoya, bearing a stern expression, grips his arm, digging his nails into it while pressing his foot onto the blond's to keep him from jumping forward or screeching out loud. The twins look at one another as Mori and Honey take in the audience's surprise and confusion. Renge is the only one unruffled by the extraordinary sight as she signals offstage and two Lobelia stagehands bring out a pink tufted Windsor chair, setting it downstage center, beneath one of the spotlights. Haruhi catches Renge's eye and the two girls exchange a look of camaraderie before Renge gives Haruhi a wink and thumbs up.

Squaring her shoulders, Haruhi walks to the chair without looking at her friends or the audience and sits down. Renge hands her a wifi microphone and after a false start with feedback howling displeasure, Haruhi refuses it though Renge stands nearby, aiming it towards the brunette. The salon is large, but the acoustics are perfect, allowing for easy communication. Haruhi prefers that as she takes in a deep breath and lets it out, releasing the tension that's gathered in her shoulders.

"Hello, everyone," she begins. "I'm Haruhi." Her unassuming manner and natural charm gain everyone's attention and the room settles down. "About a year ago I was wearing these very clothes, looking for a quiet place to study and well, it seemed that even the libraries were pretty noisy.

"I came into this room hoping for a little peace and quiet but what I found was —" She extends her arms and gestures for the hosts to approach. They do, Kyoya taking a seat on the arm of the chair, his face an unreadable mask. The twins stand together near the opposite arm while Honey takes a place on the floor beside her feet, and Tamaki and Mori stand behind, their height surpassing the high back of the Windsor. "Those you see here," she finishes. "I met the Host Club. I didn't know such a club existed, I didn't know them and, frankly, the idea sounded a little weird." Scattered laughter is heard. "Well, I got flustered and backed into a pedestal holding a vase that fell and shattered and, of course, I had to pay for it. Being what many of you call a commoner, I worked it off by becoming the Host Club's dog."

"Oh yes!" Tamaki interrupts, reaching down to place his hands on her shoulders. "But being such a natural with the ladies, Haruhi was soon promoted to hosthood and is a wonderful one, at that." Despite trying to sound relaxed, he sounds worried.

Staring ahead, Haruhi says, "Thank you, senpai, but if I might tell this my way? Please?" Tamaki removes his hands, chastened, resting them on the back of the chair.

"The thing is," the brunette continues, looking at the club's regular customers in the audience, including her own, "I never wanted to be a host, but I came to like it. Renge and these guys and all of you have become my friends. You made me feel welcome when I didn't feel that way anyplace else on campus. And some of you have made me feel very special which is why I'm hoping you understand when I tell you something important about myself that you might not realize."

"Haruhi, are you gay?" Kasanoda asks from his front row seat.

"No. No, Ritsu, I'm not."

"Bisexual?" That was Momoka, eyes narrowing as she sits next to Kazukiyo, also in the front row, clutching his hand, much to the bespectacled boy's delight.

"Nope."

"Then you must be asexual and that's fine," says 3rd-year and regular guest Chiyo, who sits beside them. "I figured as much."

"Not asexual either, Chiyo-san. Sorry. In fact, I like boys. In fact," she says, then pauses. "I have a boyfriend." She stops, realizing from the murmurs that arise that she's confusing things. Chiyo seems miffed as Haruhi hears the question 'Who is it?' echo through the crowd.

Kyoya's voice cuts through the buzz. "That lucky fellow would be me. It's relatively new but we've been friends for nearly a year and things developed of their own accord." Haruhi feels his ungloved hand seek hers, their fingers intertwining as Kyoya continues, his tone growing ominous. "And if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me directly."

Even so, the shockwaves of both announcements bust the room wide open with questions, comments and a general cacophony causing Mariko, another Haruhi regular, to stand and ask, "Are you saying you're pansexual?"

Haruhi's eyes widen. "What? Wait a minute, no." She stands up and waits for the noise to subside a bit, then says, "Listen. I'm a hetero-cisgender girl who's been wearing a boy's uniform so I could repay my debt by playing host. That's it. But none of that should matter. My gender and sexual orientation doesn't matter to me and neither does anyone else's. You are who you are and you love who you love. It's okay by me as long as you treat yourself and one another with respect and kindness. That's what the Host Club is about now. That's what we're openly supporting. I just thought that if everyone is being up front, I should be, too. You can be upset with me but please don't hold it against the club."

"But they knew about it, didn't they?" says a dark-haired, dark-eyed, unattractive guest named Kyoko. "You basically lied to us all year, didn't you?" Before Haruhi can reply, Kyoko continues in a strident voice, "That's not very nice, you know. How many other lies have you told, huh?" Kyoko's friends try to shush her but the arrogant girl is a well-known heiress accustomed to having her way. "I think I should be reimbursed for all the money I've spent visiting the club this year."

"But you aren't even a customer of mine," Haruhi protests in as calm a voice as she can muster. "I suppose if my customers are upset, a refund might be in order. Maybe." She feels Kyoya's hand disengage but she's too caught up to look at him, though her heart sinks.

"It's hardly the money, but the principle of the thing," Kyoko says. "My father is a judge and he'll be sure to hear about this." Kyoko rises and with her go several of her friends, one of them Haruhi's customers.

"Now wait just a minute," Renge says, hands on hips. Kyoko pauses. "Before you go, Kyoko-san, answer me this: would you ask for a refund at a restaurant after you'd already eaten the meal?"

"What are you talking about?" Kyoko snipes.

"Well, would you?"

"Of course not. If I've already eaten the meal, that would be rude."

"And just how many times did you come to club this year and leave disappointed?" When Kyoko remains silent, Renge continues, "My point, I believe, is made."

"Kyoko," Haruhi says, "I understand if you feel cheated and I apologize for that. It was never my intention to deceive. I was just trying to pay off a debt. Please, won't you reconsider your position? Nobody has really gotten hurt, have they?"

"I'll think about it," Kyoko says, "but for now, we're leaving." With that, she turns and leaves the salon, her coterie following. Meanwhile, the hosts have gathered around Haruhi, standing as a group, center stage. Renge stands slightly to one side, mike still in hand, her foot audibly tapping.

"Any other comments?" she demands. Momoka raises her hand. "What is it, Momo-chan? Are you going to leave, too?"

"Oh no," Momoka says. "In fact, before Kyoko-san went off the deep end, I was about to say that nothing Haruhi has said surprises me in the least."

"It doesn't?" Haruhi says, her own surprise evident.

"Not a bit. I mean, you're a girl? That's your big news?"

"Well, yeah."

"Most of us in Class 1A figured that out a long time ago." Haruhi's mouth drops open, as do the mouths of the other hosts.

Kazukiyo says, "Even I knew you were a girl, Fujioka. It's pretty obvious you don't have an Adam's apple. We just went along figuring you had your reasons for playing at being a boy."

A frustrated Renge shouts, "Did everyone know Haruhi was a girl but me? I only just found out this week!"

Ayame Junichi stands up in the middle of the audience. "Everyone didn't know, Renge-chan. I didn't, but I don't care 'cause it's not a big deal." She looks around and speaks to the room, in general. "Fujioka is a girl. Any objections?"

"Not an objection, but I do have a question," Chiyo says, eyes narrowing.

"What's that?" Haruhi asks, still pondering Momoka's and Kazukiyo's revelations.

"If I have a crush on you, does that make _me_ gay? Not that I mind. I'm just wondering." She gives a little moue and shrugs a shoulder. A few silent moments of blinking eyes goes on between Haruhi and the third-year, then Chiyo chortles and smiles, and Haruhi relaxes.

"I can't answer that for you, Chiyo-san, but are you saying you'll still sit with me at Club?"

"Sure," Chiyo says. "You're fun to be around, you're a nice person and you always give great advice."

"And now we know why," Mariko adds, nodding vigorously.

"I'm glad you noticed that," Renge says coming forward and using the microphone, "because instead of being a Host, I think Haruhi should become our new Personal Advisor, at the ready to talk to anyone in need of a pep talk, some guidance in solving a problem or suggestions on how to make your relationship shine. All you need do is come to a session and book an appointment."

"For a fee, of course," adds Kyoya, his nimble mind already adding up new revenue from the venture even as he internally devises strategies to contest refunds of any sort.

"Sounds perfect," says Momoka with a smile. Kazukiyo nods agreement, while others are still processing the fact that Haru-he is a Haru-she.

"What?" shouts Tamaki, moving towards Renge. "When was this decided? And why wasn't I told about this?" He turns back towards the club's director who merely pushes at his glasses. "Kyoya – did you have something to do with this?"

Renge says, "Oh relax, blondie. You said my ideas were good. You said you trusted me. We're here and we're still standing, so do you or don't you?" She gives the blond a withering look and he takes a step back.

"It's okay, senpai," says Haruhi. "I really like the idea 'cause now I can be myself and talk to everybody. My debt is paid and if I'm going to stay with the club, it's what I'd like to do."

"Well," the Host Club king capitulates, growing meek. "If it will make you happy, Haruhi. There's just one condition."

"What's that?"

He points at her and yells, "I don't ever want to see my daughter in those grubby clothes again!"

The twins shout in unison, "Hear, hear!" and Haruhi groans. The audience applauds, enjoying the show of intra-Host Club dynamics.

"So Renge," Kazukiyo says, "tell me something. What really brought about this change? It's not like someone in the club actually is gay." He looks at the twins. "Is it?"

Haruhi and Renge look at one another, then shift their gaze to look at the Host Club's president. Tamaki stops fussing and stands still, his gaze taking in everyone present. Gently, he takes the mike and holding it in two hands, says, "You may as well know. I'm the person coming out, not Haruhi and not the twins. Some of you have suspected and some of you know, but today it's official. Being queer is something I suppose I've always known about myself but never acknowledged until recently, but now that I have, I'm standing proud."

The immediate silence is deafening and the scattered hand claps less than enthusiastic while several girls begin to cry. The faces in the audience register shock, admiration and horror. A few boys call out unkind words but are quickly ushered out of the room. A few more students leave with them in silence or whispering to one another, but Tamaki's smile never wavers, though his eyes glisten. Instead, he watches as more guests depart then hands off the mike to Renge before sitting down at the edge of the stage where he addresses the club's regular guests who gather around him. She discreetly stands nearby with the mike pointed downwards.

"Dear Princesses," he says, "Please don't cry. I truly love you all and I'll be here for you each and every day just as I always have been and always will be. Seeing your beautiful faces and listening to your lovely voices tell me your stories and your concerns are things I treasure in my heart. I've never personally asked for anything from you except your smiles in all the time the Host Club has been active, but now I ask for a single favor. My deepest hope is that you can be here for me, now, when I need your support. If I have that, I can deal with anything anyone says or does."

And then from onstage, Haruhi claps…once. Then twice. Kyoya joins her. Then Kaoru and Hikaru, Mori and Honey, too, with a single clap repeated by six pairs of hands. Slowly, the girls take up the cause until the room erupts in applause and the idol of Ouran Elite Academy is comforted by the encouraging words, warm gazes and adoration of a swarm of adoring fans – as usual.

On stage, Honey says, "I guess Tama-chan is going to be okay, huh?"

"Looks that way," Haruhi says.

"He is the king, after all," states Kyoya.

"So how much did we make today, Kyoya-senpai?" asks Kaoru.

"I haven't done the accounting," he responds, "but a general headcount at the beginning of the session predicts a profit, even after expenses."

"You sound pleased," says Hikaru.

"I am and so should you all be. After all, this change could have been the end of us and it still might be, but apparently, we've weathered the opening."

"What about the students who left?" Mori says.

"Or who might complain to their parents?" adds Haruhi.

Kyoya turns, setting his cane and mechanical glove on the tufted chair before sending a pointed look at the Zuka Club members manning the DJ station. Immediately, another set of dance music begins. Tamaki looks over his shoulder at his friends and smiles before being pulled to his feet and onto the dance floor by two different girls. Bit by bit the crowd takes up dancing again.

Kyoya again addresses his friends. "Change is never easy and I expect there will be flack. But things have a strange way of working out. As I predicted, Matsuyama Kanan and Kuze Takeshi are now engaged, and Kuze actually smiled at me today. We'll handle issues as they arise just as we always have. We have the backing of Chairman Suoh and our families' combined influence is significant. But for now, we need to focus on our guests and keep this party going."

"Then I guess it's back to work, bro," Kaoru says to Hikaru, grabbing his brother by the hand and leading them both off the stage and into the audience where they're met by their admirers.

"Ready to rock, cousin?" Honey says to Mori and they, too, move off to blend into the moving bodies.

Haruhi and Kyoya remain on stage facing one another, standing close but not touching, despite both wishing they were alone and could do just that.

"Don't you have guests to entertain, Haruhi?" Kyoya says, pointing with his head towards several of Haruhi's regular guests and friends who wait, watching the couple with curious eyes.

"I do, but I think they're more interested in watching you and me right now."

"Thanks to your announcement."

"My announcement? What about yours?"

"It seemed an opportune moment to take a stand."

"And we've survived, or so it appears."

"I'm sure Tamaki will have something to say about hosts dating, but after today, new rules are bound to be made."

"Which you'll influence, no doubt."

He smiles in a conspiratorial fashion, then says, "Speaking of influence, I should think you would have asked my opinion of your plan before executing it with Renge's blessing."

"But you're the Shadow King. I thought you know everything." Her tone is just a tad snarky but Kyoya remains cool.

"I suspected something was up when I saw you and her seriously chatting at rehearsal yesterday, yet you were quite reticent with me. I thought we weren't keeping secrets?"

Haruhi recants, looking sheepish. "You're right, but I didn't tell you because I didn't want the club held responsible in case my reveal was a flop. I told Renge because I needed somebody on the inside to help me pull it off. You understand that, don't you?"

"That's logical, though your appearance was surprising and your declaration, especially after the ambivalence you expressed only last week. But I will say I'm glad you've admitted your gender, once and for all. It makes things…"

"Easier?"

"Honest. Remember I told you I would always be so with you."

"So you did and so you have been. Thank you for that."

"It's my pleasure to see you happy, Haruhi. I shall strive to do so always."

"We'll see about that the next time we argue—"

"You mean about giving refunds? That's...not happening."

"Okay, okay. I spoke out of turn, but I do have a favor to ask right now."

"Indeed?"

"Dance with me." She gives him a winning sideways glance.

"Haruhi—"

"Come on, Kyoya," she says so quietly so he has to lean down to hear her. "You know it's what they're waiting for - a little one on one action, nothing too risqué, naturally."

"You certainly have changed." Their eyes watch each other as fingertips touch.

"Not too much, I hope."

"No, just the right amount."

"So don't look back."

"Are you sure you're prepared for the gossip that will ensue?"

"Just keep your eyes on me."

"I think I like this decisive person you're becoming."

Instead of answering, she laughs and grabs his arm, pulling him along, off the stage and into the crowd. The curious onlookers squeal and smile at the sight of the petite, ill-dressed girl and the tall, ultra stylish boy taking the dance floor, with each other. They watch for a while but then the music takes them over and everyone is dancing.

And as the mid-winter afternoon light fades and darkness falls, there's only laughter, love and light in Music Room 3. Just as there should be, always.

End – Chapter 66 – Shut Up and Dance

* * *

Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon [Kyoya–centric]

CHORUS  
"Oh don't you dare look back.  
Just keep your eyes on me."  
I said, "You're holding back."  
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"  
This woman is my destiny.  
She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo.  
Shut up and dance with me."

We were victims of the night -  
A chemical, physical, kryptonite;  
Helpless to the bass and the fading light.  
Oh, we were bound to get together,  
Bound to get together.

She took my arm.  
I don't know how it happened.  
We took the floor and she said…

CHORUS

A backless dress and some beat up sneaks;  
My discothèque, Juliet teenage dream.  
I felt it in my chest as she looked at me.  
I knew we were bound to be together,  
Bound to be together

She took my arm.  
I don't know how it happened.  
We took the floor and she said…

CHORUS

Oh, come on girl!

Deep in her eyes  
I think I see the future.  
I realize this is my last chance.

She took my arm.  
I don't know how it happened.  
We took the floor and she said…

CHORUS (2X)

Ooh-ooh-hoo. Shut up and dance with me. (2x)


	66. Bullseye (Epilogue 1/3)

Tokyo in mid-August is hot and humid, but hospitable to thousands of tourists from all over the world. Meanwhile, natives leave the city for cooler northern climes, head south for the tropics or leave the country altogether provided their bank accounts can afford it. Such is the case for the Ootori clan who, en masse, leave Tokyo behind for the mountains of Hokkaido. Only Kyoya remains behind in order to participate in the kyudo competition held each summer to determine the national winners from the regional competition just completed in June.

Kyoya has been a top marksman since his middle school years and now, as a third-year, is Team Captain. His awards for the present school year include First Place among his teammates for Most Strikes and Best Form, as well as First Place in both for Tokyo Prefecture. The regionals saw him place second only to Matsumoru Kinata of the Shimane Prefecture, but secured his spot in the National Competition with a sharpened appetite for First Place at said level.

Academically, he's an early graduate, leaving after only a few months into his third year to head to M.I.T. to begin his university studies. The title of National Champion would be a fine way to start off on a collegiate team. Kyoya's intention is to bring kyudo to the school's English-bow club and to develop it as an equivalent form of practice and competition. He also intends to graduate No. 1 in his class and to become the youngest recipient of the Pritzker Prize in Architecture.

The kyudojo is packed with spectators and the excitement in the crowd is palpable, but sedate. Etiquette, after all, is as much a part of kyudo as tradition and skill. An ancient sport dating back to prehistoric Japan, it attracts a knowledgeable audience. Here, at the Meiji Jingu Kyudojo of Tokyo, Haruhi is certain she recognizes several famous faces among the assembled viewers and wonders how different her life would have been had she not attended Ouran.

Flanking her, Mori and Tamaki are talking quietly. The two young men have been dating since Mori graduated, at his initiation. They seem well suited to one another, sharing as they do a unique understanding. Haruhi listens as Mori explains to the flighty blond how the event will unfold. Tamaki listens with rapt attention.

_I'm happy for them and I'm glad that Tamaki-senpai's feelings for Kyoya, whatever they were, have changed back into friendship._

"The archers," Mori says, "will come into the matoba—"

"That's the stage, right?" Tamaki interrupts and Mori nods.

"Right," Mori says. "They'll go through a ritual of bowing to the judges before stepping up to the honza and kneeling in kiza position."

"Kiza position?" Tamaki says. "That's a tough one. I can barely do seiza, though I've gotten better at it."

"I've noticed that," Mori says and Tamaki beams a glorious smile at the tall brunet. "They'll bow to the mato—"

"That's the targets over there," says Haruhi, gesturing with an open palm towards the high black wall with an embankment of dirt that supports five bullseyes stuffed with straw.

"Ah," Tamaki says. "But they're so far away!"

"That's why they get to take three steps forward to the shai line, where they'll shoot." Mori says, as serious as ever, and Tamaki is confused.

"Only three?"

"The arrow's distance is controlled by the archer's pull. His form and empty mind will determine its flight path."

"What do you mean 'empty mind?' That doesn't sound like something Kyoya would like, no matter how much skill is involved."

Haruhi says, "It's like meditation, senpai. You let conscious thought go while training takes over your body."

"It's very Zen," Mori adds.

"But the point is to hit the mato, right?" Tamaki asks, not being someone for whom meditation holds much appeal.

"Partially," says Haruhi. "Hitting the mark is counted for points in competition, but proper form is equally valued. That's why there are two sets of awards."

"Oh, I get it."

Mori says, "There are team awards for Most Strikes and Best Form, as well as individual awards for the same categories."

"And," says Haruhi, "everyone who earns a medal is considered a National Athlete. That's what Kyoya is really after, though he prefers to be noticed for form over hits since that takes greater discipline. He already has several medals for both."

"Well, I'd want to get the most hits," says Tamaki. "Besides, if you have the proper form, wouldn't you naturally hit the bullseye?"

"Not always," Mori says. "Like you said before, the targets are far away, though this is considered a short-distance field. The archers probably selected specific arrows and fletchings that affect how the arrow will fly."

Haruhi is impressed. "I thought you were a kendo expert, senpai?"

"I am and a National Athlete in that sport, but Satoshi studies kyudo so I've been to quite a few competitions. He actually wants to learn yabusame, which is archery while riding on horseback. You know how he loves animals and it's fantastic to watch."

"On horseback? Really?" Haruhi says. "I didn't know that."

"Does Ouran have a team like that?" Tamaki asks.

"There's an equestrian team, but not yabusame. Not yet, anyway," says Mori.

"Ouran's kyudo team is top ranked in the prefecture," Haruhi says, "but the competition will be stiff today, especially from some of the neighboring prefectures."

"I'll bet Kyoya is the best one," Tamaki insists.

"I think so," she says, eyes bright as she speaks about him, her cheeks glowing just a bit.

"Oh, Haruhi," Tamaki says, putting his arm around her shoulder and drawing her close. "It's so obvious how you feel about him. It's adorable and I'm so happy for you both."

"Uh, thanks, senpai," she says, deftly removing his arm and leaning into Mori for protection. Tamaki pouts but, fortunately, there's not enough room for him to cower or grow mushrooms.

_Thank goodness. Oh!_

The chimes sound announcing the start of the competition and a reverent hush overtakes the arena as the first set of archers enter the matoba. Haruhi leans forward and takes in a breath, as she always does, upon seeing Kyoya in his kyodogi, leading in the first group of five. All are dressed in crisp black pleated hakama topped by a pristine white uwagi tucked and cinched in at the waist by a black obi. On their feet they wear only white tabi. In their hands they carry their yumi (bow) and four ya (arrows).

_How handsome and regal he looks._

Kyoya follows the ritual as if in a trance, his movements calculated but fluid. He takes his position and goes through the ancient steps of hassetsu: the eight fundamental stages of shooting a single arrow with an empty mind. To the casual onlooker it seems deceptively simple, but the technique can take years to master.

Watching him, Haruhi sees the same intense focus he applies to his studies applied to this ancient sport. Her heart beats faster and her blood is stirred at the memory of how it feels to be with him when she is the target of that focus. In their six months together, he's respected her sexual limits, but they've both learned other ways to satisfy desire. Savoring arousal fully is one of them as Haruhi allows herself to watch Kyoya now with a lover's eye.

Kyoya's form is unmatched by his teammates. In truth, it's unmatched by most of the competitors that day save a few. In the end, however, Ouran's team falls short of winning First Place in Mato Strikes by a narrow margin, taking Second Place to Shimane Prefecture in both the team and individual scoring, with Matsumoru Kinata landing three strikes to Kyoya's two. Under the leadership of Team Captain Ootori, however, Tokyo Prefecture and Ouran, by association, wins First Place for Best Form with Kyoya the individual winner.

The medal ceremony immediately follows the competition and Haruhi is as proud as if she had won the awards herself. As Kyoya receives his medals, she leans forward and in doing so, spies the profile of Ootori Yoshio seated further down and closer to the matoba. A dark-haired woman with upswept hair is seated next to him.

_It's good to see Ootori-sama is taking an interest in Kyoya, but who is that woman? Is it Fuyumi? I wouldn't mind running into them, if she's here._

Ootori Yoshio knows that Kyoya and she are dating. She's even met him several times and been invited to dinner twice at the Ootori mansion, as well as attended the annual stockholders gala with Kyoya. He's always been cordial, but distant. While he admires her, his tolerance of their relationship is always in question. It's something she thinks about more and more, especially with Kyoya on the verge of leaving Japan and their being separated by thousands of miles.

Yoshio and the dark-haired woman stand when the event concludes and when Haruhi sees who the woman is, she mutters, "Oh, no."

Tamaki and Mori notice the way Haruhi draws back, the blush gone from her cheeks, her mouth a thin line. They also notice why. Aware of the senior Ootori's feelings about Haruhi, Mori puts his arm around her and whispers, "Be proud of who you are" close to her ear, and she pulls herself together.

_I won't let you get to me, Ootori Yoshio._

"I'm fine," she says. "Kyoya said he'd meet us in the gardens. Let's go there and wait for him."

"Yeah," says Tamaki. "I could go for some dorayaki, too, if they're selling it here."

The trio heads into the classic garden behind the kyudojo. Mori and Tamaki keep Haruhi entertained and smiling until Kyoya emerges, still in his kyudogi, setta on his feet. As he scans the crowd, Haruhi hurries over to where he is while Tamaki and Mori head off to find refreshments.

"Well done," she says, standing behind Kyoya, and he turns beaming a natural smile at her and taking both of her hands in his, which is as much physical affection as such a public place will allow. "You were wonderful," she adds. "So graceful, yet powerful. I could watch you all day."

"Thank you," he says, "but I could say the same of you. You look beautiful."

"Why, thank you. This sundress is one you picked out and I don't dare ask how much it is, but it's lovely. Personally, I'd rather be in shorts and a tee shirt, but you know how these hoity-toity events are with their dress codes."

"Well, hurrah for dress codes, in that case."

Their time together is interrupted by several dignitaries wanting to chat with the National Athlete. Kyoya turns to greet them with a low bow. Haruhi takes several steps back with a polite bow of her own. As he discusses his training, she stands to one side, listening for awhile and then simply watching the crowd.

Her calm expression changes to worry when she notices Ootori Yoshio approaching with the woman she saw earlier, a woman she recognizes as Suzuki Momiji. Turning back to where Kyoya is still engrossed in conversation, she hesitates, not wanting to leave but unwilling to stay.

As if sensing her emotional state, Kyoya glances to where she stands. She gestures with her chin in the direction of the elder Ootori. Upon seeing his father and his companion, Kyoya lifts his own chin and squares his shoulders. He returns his attention to his guests, but soon excuses himself, turning back to Haruhi.

"I'll handle this," he says.

"I'm going home with Tamaki-senpai and Mori-senpai," she says, but he grabs her hand.

"Stay with me," he says. "I want my father to know that you're here supporting me and sharing in this honor. It's time he and Momiji understand that we're serious about one another. I won't allow them to manipulate us."

"That woman doesn't like me and I don't want to cause a scene, Kyo."

"Since when?" he says, squeezing her hand. "You making a scene, as you put it, is one of the things I like most about you…Shadow Queen." She tries to look annoyed, but fails, shaking her head at him but smiling at the nickname he sometimes uses.

_I hope you're right._

If the elder Ootori is disturbed by Haruhi's presence, he doesn't let on, acknowledging her with a polite greeting. Momiji, however, scowls upon seeing the pert brunette who she perceives to be but a temporary obstacle in becoming a member of the Ootori clan.

Yoshio looks past his son and says, "I suppose I will have to accept a losing placement in the category of Most Strikes. Had your focus not been distracted, you might have won double medals." He pauses then and looks directly at Haruhi. "Don't you agree, Fujioka-san?"

"I'm very proud of Kyoya-senpai being named a National Athlete for the third time. He's earned it through much hard work and dedication."

"Your point has merit, but I'm sure you know that this competition was Kyoya's moment to shine in both categories. This is his last high school competition."

"If," Kyoya says, keeping the tone of his voice as cordial as possible, "you're insinuating that Haruhi is a distraction, I disagree." He covers the hand now resting on his arm. "She has been, in fact, quite the muse for both my studies and my extra-curricular activities. Surely you've noticed that my grades as a third-year have been exemplary and the scores on my entrance exams for the American universities have been perfect."

"I have, but a double medal, particularly a win in the numeric category would have been a better indication of your training to American admissions committees."

"Father, I've already been accepted to every university to which I've applied and I'm attending M.I.T. at your insistence. Have you even considered that it wasn't my top choice? I was hoping to study in Europe to be closer to where mother is living. You remember mother, don't you?" Kyoya expects to be slapped for the impudent remark, but suddenly finds Haruhi standing between himself and his father.

"Ootori-sama," she says, "I'm sure senpai simply misses his mother and wishes she could be here to share your pride in his winning a National Championship. You're pleased, aren't you?"

Yoshio regards the brunette with a long, direct gaze, but instead of answering Haruhi's question, he turns to a smirking Momiji, saying, "I'll be at the VIP pavilion. I believe I saw several clients in the audience today, so I must be diligent and say hello. You may look for me there when you're ready to leave."

"Of course, Ootori-sama," the young woman replies, growing staid. "I won't be long." She bows and the patriarch leaves them.

"Well, listen to you," Momiji says to Haruhi in a voice laced with sarcasm once Yoshio is out of hearing range. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you actually think Ootori-sama cares what you think. What an amusing idea that such an important man should consider a commoner's opinion."

"Momiji," says Kyoya, "you will address Haruhi with respect." Haruhi hears the warning, though she doubts Momiji does.

"Why Kyo, you can't be serious. Has this gold digger actually worked her charms on you? You know she's only after your money and your name, don't you?"

Haruhi stands in stunned silence as Kyoya disengages and steers the athlete-heiress several feet away. She watches as he speaks in low tones to Momiji whose smug expression turns serious, then distressed. She finally walks away and he returns to Haruhi.

"Haruhi," he says. "are you alright? Please don't let Momiji's snobbery get to you. I set her straight about how things are with us."

Haruhi looks up into concerned gray eyes. "I'm just a little taken aback is all. I shouldn't be surprised and I shouldn't care, but what she said - that's how most people of your class think of me, isn't it?"

"My class?"

"Rich people. They think I'm after your money."

"Then they also think that I'm a weak-minded fool and, surely, they know better than that, don't you think?" He arches his brow.

She nods, feeling better. "Maybe you're right, but I can't help but wonder if being with me isn't causing you trouble."

"Now listen to me, Fujioka Haruhi. You're an amazing person and everyone at Ouran knows it."

"But we aren't always going to be at Ouran. You'll be heading off to America soon and, even here, today, there are people who've been looking at me as someone they don't recognize or should recognize, so I'm nobody. I never used to care about things like that and I still don't for myself, but I don't want to be the cause of problems for you."

"One day everyone will know you as a top attorney at a prestigious firm. Then you'll be able to hobnob with anyone you choose and ignore all the snobs who snub you now."

"What if I don't want to be a wealthy attorney? What if I just want to help people like my mother? What if I don't become well known? Will that make a difference to you?"

"Of course not, but you've always said you wanted to make your mark and you will, Haruhi. And I will be proud of you.

"But you won't if I'm just a run-of-the-mill lawyer, is that it?"

"I'm not suggesting that."

"Maybe your father is right. Maybe you and Momiji are better suited to one another than you and I. Clearly, she's still interested in you."

"I'm not interested in her."

"What does it matter if your father intends otherwise? He hasn't given us any trouble, but that's only because he's so sure of his plans for you."

"Then he's wrong," comes the answer, but with an edge of anger. "Weren't you the one who told me to live my own life?"

"But your father is powerful. Just look at the way he influenced your choice of university."

"I'm studying Architecture, as planned. He hasn't denied me that."

"No, but M.I.T. also has outstanding Business and Pre-med programs so he may just be humoring you. As for Momiji, it's obvious he associates with her because he thinks of her differently than he does me."

"What's gotten into you today? Are you forgetting that I'm savvy to his ways, awesomely resilient and if you're by my side, Haruhi, I'll walk any gauntlet he throws down?" His tone is sincere and his words as meaningful as if he had said, "I love you," which he hasn't and which Haruhi doesn't expect.

An announcement is made for the contestants to return to the matoba for a final group photo. Kyoya looks deeply into Haruhi's eyes. "I have to go, but I want to see you, later. Come to the mansion for a celebratory dinner."

"Will Fuyumi and Hiroshi-sama be there?"

"They're in Hokkaido by now, at the chalet, along with the rest of the family. My father is heading there after this event and I'm to join them tomorrow. I wish you could come with me, but that wouldn't be prudent right now."

_Will it ever be?_

Haruhi suddenly and inexplicably feels like an outsider, but she says, "Of course not."

Kyoya's voice lowers and he steps in closer. "Let's not fight. The servants are off on Sunday so we'll have run of the place. I'll order in sushi from our favorite restaurant."

"Planning to change my mood by seducing me with expensive surroundings and food?"

"Among other things." His smile is one of promise and his eyes hold a flash of his want for her.

"Haruhi! Kyoya!" comes Tamaki's voice from nearby. The smiling blond is approaching with Mori. "Hey, you two, why so serious? You just won First Prize in Form at the Nationals, Kyoya." He takes his best friend into a big hug and squeezes tight. "Great job, mon ami!"

"Thank you, Ta-ma-ki" Kyoya manages to gasp before pulling away.

"Congrats, Kyo," says Mori. "I remember how it felt to win the kendo Nationals. Enjoy the moment."

"Thank you, Mori-senpai." Another announcement is made for the winners to return to the matoba. "I'll see you guys before I leave for America, right?"

"Of course!" Tamaki says. "But what are you doing tonight?"

"Uh, Tamaki?" Mori says, tapping the blond on the shoulder."

"Huh?"

"I think Kyoya and Haruhi might have other plans."

"She can come, too." Tamaki looks confused. "Aren't you coming back with us, Haruhi?"

"Yes, of course, but it seems I'm busy tonight."

"Doing what? Laundry? Homework? Forget all that."

"No, no," Kyoya says. "Haruhi is quite correct in saying she has things to do. As do I, actually."

"Like what?" the blond asks, oblivious to the looks passing between Kyoya, Haruhi and Mori.

"Oh, wow, look at the time," Mori says, glancing at a wrist without a watch. "Tamaki, we have to go. Now."

"Now?"

"Right now."

"Oh, sure. Haruhi, are you coming?" She nods, her mood picking up.

Kyoya bows to his friends. "Thank you for supporting me by coming today. I'll speak to you, gentlemen, when I'm back in Tokyo. Haruhi? We'll talk soon?"

"Later," she says in a quiet voice, surrendering to the insistent Ootori Kyoya's relentless charm and alluring invitation.

As the trio heads back to Haruhi's apartment in Mori's RX-7, Tamaki keeps up a steady stream of one-sided conversation which suits Mori just fine. Haruhi stares out the back window, her thoughts returning again to Ootori Yoshio's insinuation that she's been a distraction for Kyoya, Momiji's presence and Kyoya's leaving for America in two weeks.

 _Have I been a distraction?_ She gives a deep sigh and Tamaki says, "Haruhi, is everything all right?"

"Everything is peachy." _Not really._

"Then why do you sound sad?"

Unable to verbalize all the nuances of her emotions, she simply says, "Everything is changing and I don't know what's going to happen next."

"None of us do, but we'll all be fine as long as we stick together."

"How do you know that?"

Mori says. "You have to think like a winner, Haruhi. Think positive."

"Right," says Tamaki. "There's a solution to every problem, you know." He pauses and then his eyes light up. "Hey! I just had a brilliant idea."

"Oh no," Haruhi groans, rolling her eyes, certain that any idea coming from Suoh Tamaki is bound to be over the top.

END - Epilogue (1/3) – Bullseye

* * *

Bullseye by Dia Frampton [Haruhi - centric]

We're gonna run, gonna run, gonna save you.  
We're rolling up our sleeves, got our fingers curled  
For the bad, for the good, for the evil.  
They got it out for me, for me.

We're tripping hard; gotta hit it on the bullseye.  
We gotta check our traps. Gotta sneak out late  
For the girls, and the boys, for the broken.  
They got it bad for me, for me.

We gotta run, gotta run. Who will save me?  
We're rolling up our sleeves.  
We're trippin' hard; gotta hit it on the bullseye.  
They got it out for me.

CHORUS  
Baby, it's the chain reaction, you'll see.  
It's a lonely, lonely world, at a crazy, crazy speed.  
And you don't need no more distractions from me.  
It's a lonely, lonely world, at a crazy, crazy speed.

You hit a groove, hit a groove on your back road.  
You walk the boulevard looking for a change  
In your eyes, in your hands, at your young age.  
They're looking low for you, for you.

We gotta run, gotta run. Who will save me?  
We're rolling up our sleeves.  
We're trippin' hard, gotta hit it on the bullseye.  
They got it out for me.

CHORUS

They got it out for me. (3x)

CHORUS


	67. Father to Son (Epilogue 2/3)

Kyoya enters the glass and steel mansion, carrying his kyudo equipment despite Tachibana's offer to help. He's determined to do more for himself since being called "pampered" by Haruhi and actually feeling insulted by the term. Her influence on him has been significant and it was startling to his friends to observe how the Shadow King has changed under the influence of his queen. He's still a force to be reckoned with, but his irritability is gone now that he's keeping regular sleep hours leaving him prone to smiling in a genuine manner instead of the pleasant but disingenuous Host smile he often used to don. And why not? He's genuinely happy.

Now he climbs the wide, central staircase that leads to the bedroom wing for himself and Akito. As he passes the open door to the balcony level of his father's study, he hears his name and immediately stops, sets down his things and enters the inner sanctum of the elder Ootori.

Warm pecan paneling covers every inch of wall space that reaches upward to span two levels with an interior set of spiral stairs enabling the room's occupant to access all the bookshelves that nearly cover the walls. Kyoya is standing on the balcony's heavy glass floor, overlooking his father's desk. Above all hangs a multi-level wrought iron chandelier with shaded candelabra on level with Kyoya's sightline. Fine art and sconces fill the free spaces throughout the room and on either side of the double doors on this level and the main floor's entryway immediately below. A seating area is at one end of the room but Kyoya looks to the tufted brown velvet chair beside the fireplace just beyond his father's desk. Here is where he sees his father listening to a Mozart string quartet that fills the room with classical melodies. When Kyoya enters, Yoshio commands the volume lower and rises. Looking up at where the brunet stands on the balcony, he says, "Kyoya, my son, please join me."

"Of course, Father. Is there something you require of me before you leave for the chalet?"

"I simply wish to congratulate you on your victory today. Won't you join me in a toast to your accomplishment?" Moving to his desk, Yosho lifts a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII and pours out barely an inch of the top shelf cognac into two squat cognac snifters. Kyoya descends into the lower level with caution. "Come, come," Yoshio says. "Don't you believe me sincere?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure considering how you spoke earlier today and how you treated Haruhi."

The older man huffs and shakes his head. "You of all people should recognize the tactic, my boy. One must always keep those who would seek to gain favor with us off guard in order to assess their true motives."

"So, you were assessing her intentions towards me or towards the Ootori family?"

"Fujioka-san? Ah so. You're upset because you made an assumption without bothering to validate your facts."

"How do you mean?"

Ootori Yoshio lifts the slanted glass with its nippled base between his center and ring finger, holding it at chest height. "Shall we toast your success first?"

"With all due respect, sir, I will not until I understand what your feelings towards the woman I respect, admire and care about are made clear to me. Furthermore, I wish you to know that if you dare to bring Suzuki Momiji to another family event in a fruitless attempt to persuade my affections, I will not stand for it with Haruhi present. I've made my feelings about her clear to Momiji today. Frankly, even as an acquaintance, I find the woman vain, selfish and materialistic."

"As do I."

"And if- Excuse me?"

"I said I agree with you about Suzuki-san's character. She is not the person I thought she was as I have discovered over the last year. Moreover, I have verified that Fujioka-san is genuinely concerned about you, Kyoya, and is interested in your welfare and not your wealth nor your family name, though I'm sure she's aware of them and considers them on some level. In each of our meetings, she has proven herself to be level-headed, intelligent and ambitious not only for herself but for you in a balanced, healthy manner. In short, I approve of her."

Kyoya bows deeply to hide his shock and the surprising moisture that coats his eyes. "Arigatou gozaimasu." He quickly composes himself and stands erect. "But what about her otou-san?"

"Ryoji? He's an interesting man who's raised a fine daughter."

"And you accept him, as he is?"

"I've met him and I'm aware of his proclivities. Frankly, I don't see that anyone can change him or should try, but if he's interested in a more conventional occupation, I may be able to assist in that regard."

Kyoya blinks with surprise. "I"m grateful for your generosity, though I wouldn't be surprised if he turns down such an offer. Ryoji-san takes great pride in his work, whether or not we approve of it."

"We shall see," Yoshio says. "Now," he says, looking at the glass still on the desk, "will you drink with me?" His eyes lift and Kyoya steps in to take up the other glass, noting the deep color of the century-old liquor within. He holds his glass in the same manner as his father, keeping the height slightly below his sire's as both swirl the precious brew and savor the aroma that rises from the cups.

"I should like to raise a toast to you, Kyoya, as a third-time National Athlete. Mother and I are most pleased. Kampai." The glasses hold but a swallow or two, but it is enough to satisfy Kyoya's first taste of such a fine wine that is special in more ways than one. Yoshio finishes his draft and sets down his glass, Kyoya setting down his own without imbibing further, the liquid warming his blood and settling his nerves.

Yoshio continues, "You are my fourth child and my third son. I know that this position has often rankled you as you have not understood why I have done many of the things I have done. This is something you may comprehend one day if fortune is kind and you are a parent yourself. You are now entering a new chapter of your life, one that will lead you into adulthood. I have considered this at length and have decided you are entitled to know certain facts.

"As the youngest, you have often been left in the dark regarding Mother's state of health. I thought I was protecting you and had hoped that Fuyumi could provide the necessary maternal nurturing I could not provide. I have been only partly successful, but nevertheless, you should know that both Mother and I have always been proud of you and your accomplishments."

The words settle into Kyoya's psyche like balm on a wound.

"You've spoken to her? How is she? Is she coming home?" _And why couldn't I speak to her in person? It's so difficult to understand you, but no matter. You're both proud of me._

Yoshio goes on. "She is doing well at the present time which is how I was able to inform her of your accomplishment today. Trust me when I tell you she wishes she could have been there."

"But why—"

"Now is not the time for a lengthy explanation of everything you deserve to know, my son, but soon we will sit down and I will answer all your questions provided you understand that, as your parent and as an adult, I am entitled to make choices I deem best for my family and my privacy. You understand that, don't you?"

Kyoya meets his father's eyes and, for the first time in many years, sees truth there. "I understand that you are my father and you can tell me or not tell me what you choose although I look forward to hearing more about my mother." _And asking many, many questions whether you answer them or not._

Yoshio nods and strokes his beard. "You'll be alright by yourself tonight? Tachibana will be here, of course, and a small cadre of the Black Onion Squad will patrol the grounds, but it's rare for the mansion to be empty."

"I'll be fine. Mori-senpai and Tamaki invited me to spend time with them tonight so I may do just that."

"And Fujioka-san? You have no plans to see her?"

"I believe she said she was busy this evening. School begins in a few weeks and she has a summer assignment to complete."

"Hmm," Yoshio says. "Very well, then. The company jet will bring you up in the morning. Please be at the airport by 6:30 a.m. I would prefer you to accompany me, but I understand that you wish some time to yourself. You're eighteen, after all; old enough to make such decisions for yourself." Kyoya nods and bows as the man moves past him then pauses at the entry. "Kyoya?" he says turning so the brunet sees only his profile.

"Sir?"

"Do be smart about things. Summer assignments can have unwanted consequences and we wouldn't want any of those to befall the young lady, would we?"

Kyoya's head jerks towards his father at the clear double entendre and his mouth drops open for a second or two. "No, sir," he says in a calm voice, then watches and waits as his father leaves the room, the mansion and the estate.

He's alone, but for the ever discreet Tachibana whose presence will be unknown unless absolutely necessary. Kyoya returns to the study and closing the double doors behind him, heads over to the writing desk where he picks up his near-empty glass and downs the last of the cognac in a quick gulp.

He sets down the glass and staggers back a few steps until he flops into his favorite chair and commands the music on, volume high. Unhappy with the symphony that plays, he asks for his father's next preset and a 70's British rock group is heard churning electric guitars and vocalizing tight harmonies. A moment of incredulity overtakes him and then he's chuckling like a madman.

OoOoO

"We'll all be fine as long as we stick together." That's what Tamaki said earlier that day and it might be true as an overriding academy mantra, but Haruhi wonders what will happen to Host Club if everyone is going in different directions.

Mori and Honey moving on to university meant the remaining hosts didn't have enough time to meet the needs of all their customers. Moreover, Tamaki and Kyoya's third-year accelerated curriculum meant little to no club planning time and thus, the twins were tapped to come up with a new concept to replace their Brotherly Love Act. Their idea? A weekly dance party, minus the celebrity and Zuka Club theatrics. Meanwhile, Haruhi's appointment book continues to fill to capacity and her advice column appears as a regular feature on the OHSHC website.

All in all, the changes have proven beneficial, though recognizing the LGBT community had, at first, proven controversial. Several parents had even withdrawn their children from school upon hearing of it. Tamaki's popularity, however, not only kept his old customers coming, but brought in an entirely new set of girls and boys eager to chat with the handsome, gay bishonen and his open-minded friends. Moreover, with Suoh Yuzuru's backing, the school board has passed resolutions to provide gender neutral rest rooms on campus, co-ed sport teams and new uniform options that permit students a more realistic expression of themselves. Doing so caused even more students to be withdrawn, but Ouran's academic reputation and deep pockets weathered the lawsuits and the gossip.

But what will happen with Kyoya gone and Tamaki off to the Sorbonne in January? As Haruhi prepares for her date, she wonders about it. Wonders, too, how she'll feel not seeing Kyoya in person every day. The internet is fine for communication purposes, but woefully inadequate in conveying the warmth of his embrace or the taste of his kiss. In the time they've been dating, he's showered her with gifts, the most meaningful ones being his time and attention. Haruhi's apathy towards life has morphed into a passion for it, now that she no longer has to pretend all is well while secretly feeling blue.

She's blossomed into a young woman with a young woman's appetites and having a smart, cute boyfriend with whom she can spend time, talk about things that matter to her and learn about intimacy is fine by her. Their first make out session at Fuyumi's was unplanned but delightfully satisfying for the brunette who has since found herself both curious and shy about sex. Technically, she's still a virgin despite obtaining birth control at Kyoya's request and he obtaining a clean bill of health at hers. It's not a matter of if they'll make love, but when.

Haruhi is wondering about that, too, as she applies blush and mascara, makeup she now wears despite refusing to define her sexuality, except biologically. A smudge of kohl and a slick of lip gloss is added for dates because Kyoya says it's sexy and she likes the sound of that.

She's dressed per an earlier text request from the Shadow King: **Bardot and heels, pls. For me. Kyo** He's referring to the outfit she'd worn to the gala in May - a dove gray shantung silk dress. Its fitted bodice cinches at the waist with a flared skirt overlaid with voile that floats several inches past the mid-thigh hem. Embroidered pale pink blossoms appear in random places, clusters encircling the waistline while the wide fold of the neckline runs horizontally across her upper torso, revealing her shoulders and a modest décolletage.

It's beautiful against her coloring and Haruhi is actually glad to have a chance to wear it again. Kyoya's birthday necklace graces her neck and Ryoji's zirconia teardrops, her ears. Platform heeled, lace-up fuschia wedges and a black hard-case clutch complete her ensemble.

 _Maybe we're dining out after all._ Despite months of disparaging the lifestyle of the rich and famous, Haruhi's come to appreciate the amenities without taking them for granted. She's also made certain that Kyoya is educated on the ways of the commoner, something he finds difficult to fathom, though believe it he must. Tonight he follows a commoner custom by picking up his date with his own car, a not so common event when said car is a metallic gray Lamborghini that commands the stares of everyone on the street as well as those looking down from patios above.

Haruhi hears a commotion outside and knows Kyoya has arrived. She checks her appearance one last time in the bathroom mirror. She's been to the Ootori home exactly three times, each time with dozens of people present. Tonight will be the first time she's been there with just Kyoya. The idea is exciting. Scary. Provocative.

Grabbing the fringed shawl Hashimoto Madoka let her keep after the ballet incident, she opens the door just as Kyoya rings the bell. The tall, slim eighteen year old is wearing a modern cut black tuxedo complete with vest and soft knotted tie. Haruhi actually blushes at the way her body tingles in all the right places. Their mutual admiration of one another is obvious and no words need be said as she locks the apartment and he offers his arm to her. She's left a light on inside since Ryoji won't be home until the wee hours and, perhaps, neither will she.

End – Chapter 67 – Father to Son

* * *

Father to Son by Queen [Yoshio – centric]

A word in your ear, from father to son.  
Hear the word that I say.  
I fought with you, fought on your side  
Long before you were born.

Joyful the sound, the word goes around  
From father to son, to son.

And the voice is so clear, time after time it keeps on  
Calling you, calling you on.  
Don't destroy what you see, your country to be;  
Just keep building on the ground that's been won.

Kings will be crowned, and the word goes around  
From father to son, to son.

Won't you hear us sing our family song.  
Father, father, father, father, ooh yeah,  
father, father, father, father. Now we hand it on.  
But I've heard it all before.

Take this letter that I give you;  
Take it, sonny, hold it high.  
You won't understand a word that's in it  
But you'll write it out again before you die.

A word in your ear from father to son.  
Funny you don't hear a single word I say,  
But my letter to you will stay by your side  
Through the years till the loneliness is gone.

Sing if you will, but the air you breathe I live to give you.  
Father to son. Father to, father to, father to son.

END CHORUS (repeat into fade)  
Joyful the sound, the word goes around  
From father to son, to son.  
Kings will be crowned;  
The word goes around from father to son, to son.


	68. Your Touch (Epilogue 3/3)

Imagine a typical August night and a typical teenaged couple going out for the evening. Whatever you imagine, it can't begin to come close to what it's like for Ootori Kyoya, whose credentials make him a most eligible bachelor among his peers. Yet, despite being in high demand socially, this young man is dating a commoner and 2nd-year honor student at Ouran named Fujioka Haruhi, a girl who used to pretend she was a boy throughout her 1st-year for financial reasons, still insists on wearing the male uniform and has no other interests except membership in the club directed by her beau. Typical? Not on your life. Yet, this unusually matched couple has been together for six months, seem well-suited to one another and are emerging as one of the younger social circle's power couples. Who could have predicted?

As they descend from Haruhi's second floor apartment and approach Kyoya's Lamborghini, a crowd is gathered on the street and curious onlookers peer down from balconies to see the chic vehicle as much as its occupants, the well-to-do brunet no longer an unusual sight in front of the apartment complex, but handsome enough to cause a stir whenever he's around. And tonight, Haruhi is dressed to the nines and looking decidedly feminine, her longer hair framing her face in a stylish bob.

Kyoya presses the remote and the doors slowly lift like the wings of some exotic angel. Haruhi looks up to see Kyoya gazing at the car with a smug expression.

"I think you like this car more than you like me," she teases.

"On the contrary," he says. "I love this car." He gives her sideways downwards look. "I adore you."

"Smooth talker," she says before slipping into the vehicle while giving him a look of amusement. He beams a smile at her and hits the button that brings the passenger door down as he walks behind the car to enter the driver's side.

Haruhi looks out the tinted back window and sees the black vehicle signalling that Team Kyoya is on the job. She's not quite used to having security at every turn though she appreciates the security. Being from an elite family means paparazzi follow Kyoya nearly everywhere when they're in public lately. Even now, a photographer is snapping his photo, causing him to grumble, "Damn pests," once the door seals and they pull away.

They make their way through Sunday night traffic, worse in summer than in winter. Haruhi sinks into the leather seat without caring. The car is gorgeous and very much like its owner: classy, high-powered and surprisingly comfortable. The audio system is playing one of Tamaki's CD's, she's dressed nicely and is spending the evening with a young man who fills her heart. Life is good, except...

"Kyoya?"

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if I ask what you said to Momiji-san this afternoon?"

A wry smile quirks Kyoya's mouth. "I was wondering when you were going to bring that up."

"You know she's got her sights set on you and I think your father wouldn't mind her family merging with yours."

"Merging, eh? A good business term, Haruhi, but not one I like to use when talking about with whom I want to spend my life."

"I get that, but let's face it. Your family won't settle for anything less than an arranged marriage with someone who will bring merit to your family."

"Are you discounting the possibility that you might be under consideration as a possible future Ootori?"

"Me? But your father—"

"Approves of you."

"He does?" Her surprise is clear.

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you are when he said it, but he told me he thought Momiji-san wasn't who he thought she was, but that you have shown yourself to be a person he could support."

"You're kidding." Her surprise is genuine.

"Ootori do not kid. I told you once, I may say something ironic, but humor is not one of my traits."

"And yet you make me happy."

"Meaning?"

"It means, Ootori Kyoya, that despite being a hard ass in the world at large, as you once told me yourself, you're also one of the most considerate people I know."

"I'm honored, although considerate isn't exactly how most people would describe me."

"Well, I would, when it comes to people you care about. You may not think anyone notices, but I do even if our customers don't realize that you're the one who helps keep the Host Club going. You even made sure that our transition was a success, in the end. You do know that everyone knows that, don't you?"

"Of course. I didn't plan the event, but Renge was incapable of sustaining the momentum and I could."

"Did and still are," she says, "because you're amazing."

They're stopped at a traffic light, so he takes the opportunity to turn his head and lean towards Haruhi. "Kiss me," he says.

Haruhi obliges with a brief, soft kiss. When he refuses to withdraw in tacit demand for another, she says, "Ask me again when we get to wherever we're going."

"So that's how it is, is it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, then."

The light turns green and Kyoya puts the engine of the sports car to the test, focusing his efforts on keeping Hotta on his toes as the bodyguard keeps pace with the sleek vehicle getting them to the Ootori mansion in as short a period of time as possible without a ticket or damage of any sort.

Kyoya slows down only upon entering the neighborhood where his home is located and Haruhi realizes just how strong Ootori family etiquette and rules are ingrained in him. But it does allow her a chance to notice the beauty of twilight in the very posh, very private residential area. At his address, unmarked except for a brass plate etched with the family crest, massive iron gates slowly swing open to allow the car entry. The trees lining the winding driveway form a canopy over them as they approach the house without the usually lit beacons that assist the many guests who make their way here for business or pleasure.

Upon reaching the house, Haruhi notices something else. All of the house lights are off, except for the exterior front lamps and the foyer, making the modern structure appear somewhat foreboding as the sun sets behind the treeline. Kyoya parks opposite the front doors and cuts the engine. Haruhi looks behind them, but sees nothing and no one in the magenta-tinted light.

"It's very different from the other times I've been here," she says.

"Tonight it's just the two of us. And Team Kyoya, of course, who will leave us alone unless I call for them, and the usual number of Black Onion Squad police scattered throughout the property with their dogs on patrol."

"But other than that…"

"Other than that, we're quite alone and it's all for you." She smiles at his definition of "alone."

Kyoya raises the car doors and comes around to Haruhi's side. "My lady," he says and she takes his offered hand, using it to rise from the low-slung vehicle. As she gains her balance, he pulls her into an embrace and leaning her back, captures her lips with his own, one hand cradling her head while other is at her back. The move is dramatic, but his kisses are soft and caressing, insistent, stealing her breath away and raising her pulse. Having been with him most of the day without such contact, his passion leaves her weak and she wraps her arms around him, allowing herself to be supported by him as his maleness penetrates her senses.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he says, holding her close when they part. "And waiting for tonight to begin."

"Me too," she murmurs, burying her face into his chest with a sudden sense of sadness. When she doesn't lift it right away, he grows concerned.

"Are you alright? I promise you nothing untoward will happen without your say-so."

"I trust you," she says, then looks up into his shadowed face. "I just want to remember everything about tonight before…"

"Before?"

"Before you leave for America." She hugs him tightly.

He kisses her forehead. "I'll be back as often as I can, but please be happy tonight. I've planned something special which is why I've asked you to dress formally."

Haruhi partially pulls out of his embrace and looks up. "Ye-ah, I was wondering about that."

He arches a brow, saying nothing as he takes her hand and leads her into the house. The foyer is even larger than how she remembers it without noise and people to fill it. "I've already given you the grand tour once, but we can do it again, if you like," Kyoya says.

"Maybe later?" she says and her stomach gurgles loud enough to be heard. "Sorry. I wasn't hungry earlier but I'm starving now." Her emphasis on the word 'starving' makes Kyoya chuckle.

"I suspected as much. Come." They continue through the dimly lit mansion, past his father's closed study doors and the open dining room ones showing a cavernous dark space. They continue down another hallway and through a state-of-the-art kitchen.

The scent of something delicious fills her nostrils and Haruhi's stomach growls again. "Where are you taking me?"

"Patience. This is a big house, if you recall."

"How could I forget when I'm already lost?"

They come to an exterior exit and seeing the look of confusion on Haruhi's face, Kyoya smiles and says, "Not much farther." He opens the door and head into the maze of topiary gardens at the rear of the house.

Kyoya's sense of drama has been a source of surprise from the very beginning of her days with the Host Club and tonight is no exception. When at last they emerge into an open area, they're standing on an inlaid patio that has been transformed into a cozy space filled with topiaries, candlelight and colorful flowers. A single table is set with elegant china, crystal and silver, flanked by freestanding candelabra. A thousand mini-lights twinkle among the shrubbery matched only by the early stars above. The sound of a shamisen begins and Haruhi notices a pair of women seated in one lit corner, the second musician adding the ethereal sound of a bamboo flute. Their music is traditional and lovely, and each of them is dressed and made up in the traditional style of the geisha.

"When did you do all this?" Haruhi is duly impressed, knowing that Kyoya had mere hours to pull the evening together.

"Didn't I tell you I'm resourceful?"

Charmed by the relaxing music and elegant set up, she then notices a familiar face working beneath a spotlight at the canopied food prep table. He's wearing a crisp white coat over his other clothing and a traditional sushiman's white cap with the Ootori family crest emblazoned on it.

"Aijima-san?"

"Indeed," Kyoya confirms. "He's actually a man of many talents and cooking is one of them, especially preparing sushi and sashimi. He'll be serving several of his personal specialties tonight. I hope you aren't disappointed that I didn't order in, after all."

"Oh no," Haruhi reassures. "It's just that I never thought of Aijima-san as a chef."

"By the end of our meal, you will."

Dinner proceeds, with one of the geisha becoming their server while the other sings for them with shamisen accompaniment. They enjoy ootoro and other delights while conversing about kyudo, schoolwork, books they've both read and enjoyed and books they disagree about as well as the movie they watched last weekend at her apartment. They drink tea prepared in the traditional manner and served in antique cups Haruhi recognizes from the one she once used in the Bentley that took her to school one morning.

"Shall we postpone dessert for a bit?" Kyoya asks and Haruhi nods. They thank Aijima and the geisha for a wonderful experience and the three adults leave. Alone again, music of another sort begins to play through the hidden sound system. It's Haruhi's favorite singing artist whose specialty is love ballads. The music is recorded but she doesn't care because Kyoya turns to her and says, "Shall we dance?"

She loves slow dancing – the way their bodies move together, sharing a special moment in time. It's magical. They begin almost as strangers, Haruhi always being a little shy, at first. They begin in a classic waltz position but as the music goes on, Kyoya pulls her near, his hand secure at her back, hers tucked in at his shoulder, while the others are clasped together over his heart. She had to learn how to follow his lead, being a headstrong individual, but soon learned that Kyoya is a good dancer: graceful, strong and assured. She discovered it was nice to just go along, for a change.

Their eyes meet and though they smile, Kyoya feels a moment of discomfort, certain she is able to see right into him, all of his feelings for her laid bare and then he, too, allows himself to just concede the moment. They don't cover much ground in their slow, almost stationary movement, but their emotions are shifting into intimate territory, barriers dissolving between them as the worries of the day fade and the only thing they think about is one another.

With heels on, Haruhi is able to rest her head against Kyoya's' shoulder and he presses his cheek to hers, pulling her even closer against him until they're sealed from cheekbone to thigh and she wishes the music could go on forever. They move in a rhythm that is uniquely their own, regardless of the song playing, as the candles burn down and time stands still. At one point she lifts her face and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, still dancing. It's something she would never do in public, but here and now, it's perfect. She actually feels dizzy with her eyes closed and the world spinning around her. When at last they part and Kyoya says, "Walk with me," she isn't sure she can.

She links her arm in his for support, leaving her shawl and purse behind as they meander through perfectly manicured gardens, the jasmine fragrant in the warm August night as tiny house bats swoop overhead and crickets sing all around them. Kyoya dreams of a day when Haruhi and he will own their own gardens for entertaining, while Haruhi imagines their children running about catching the fireflies that add their winking glow to the scene.

They step down into a circular recess where a fantastic stone fountain is showcased, one of several on the estate. This one is an Italian import with elaborate carvings of sea creatures - seahorses, starfish, urchins and octopi that spiral upward into a trio of large fish spouting a huge spray that cascades back into a sparkling painted pool lit from beneath with various colors that illuminate the surrounding area.

Kyoya turns to Haruhi. "I want you to know that these last six months have been the happiest I've known because of you. I know you're worried about being apart, but I'm not because I know how I feel." He reaches into the tuxedo jacket's inside pocket and pulls out a small box. Haruhi's eyes widen.

"Kyoya—"

"I'm not proposing marriage although the idea has crossed my mind. I'm aware that we both have a great deal of schooling ahead of us and careers to build, but," he pauses to open the box, revealing the name Piaget and a delicate ring in the shape of a rose, its petals encrusted with diamonds and a small solitaire at its center. "I'm hoping you'll accept this ring as a promise for the future."

The brunette can hardly breathe as she looks at the ring, which probably costs much more than the necklace she wears or any of the other baubles he's gifted her thus far.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll accept my promise to you and give me yours."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Very sure." He's watching her carefully and seeing her usual reluctance to accept his usually expensive gifts, he snaps the box shut and places into his nearest pocket.

"Kyoya! What are you doing?" Haruhi cries in surprise as the brunet steps in to lift her off her feet, carrying her to the edge of the fountain pool and holding her over the water. "Put me down this instant!"

"Promise me."

"Are you crazy?"

"Maybe I am. Maybe that's actually something I've learned from Tamaki. But I'm crazy about you and I don't want to lose you to some Tokyo Romeo while I'm away."

"You won't."

"Promise me, then. If you don't want the ring, at least promise me verbally."

"The ring is lovely. I want it. I do. Just please put me down."

Kyoya considers his options and releases his hold, just for a few seconds, just to hear Haruhi cry out and to catch her again in his arms. She begins to pummel him with one free fist while her other arm grips him tightly around his neck. "I swear Ootori-san, if I go down, you're going down with me."

Kyoya begins to laugh softly, carrying Haruhi away from the fountain and into one of the four carved shrubbery niches that surround the fountain. There, he sits down on a travertine settee, pulling Haruhi onto his thigh between his legs, his back supported at one end by one of two scrolled endposts. He waits until she stops yelling at him before pulling out the box once more. This time, when he takes out the ring, she allows him to place it on the fourth digit of her left hand, a clear statement of their mutual understanding of its meaning.

"It's beautiful," she breathes, wrapping her free arm around his waist and leaning into him while holding out the hand with the ring, admiring it.

"No more so than its owner," he replies, kissing her cheek.

"I've been told," dropping the hand into her lap, without looking at him, "that I'm clueless when it comes to knowing how I feel about things even though I'm great at giving advice to others and, that's probably true. But there's one thing I do know. I care about you, very much. I'm not sure if it's love since I've never been in love before, but I do know that I can't give you up. So yes, I'm willing to promise myself to you even though I'll miss you terribly while you're away."

She throws her free arm around his neck and turns her face towards his to be kissed. He obliges, taking his time until he feels the tip of her tongue invade his mouth and he responds in kind. As their ardor grows, his lips move to nibble her ear and she sighs with contentment. He maneuvers her off his lap and onto the bench pulling her tighter against him as he kisses and suckles her neck and shoulder, her body melting under his attentions. When his hand moves beneath the hem of her dress and upwards along her bare thigh, she anticipates his touch with a shiver of pleasure. He smiles when he feels the lacy thong.

"When did you get this?" he growls in her ear.

"Stop. You know you ordered it yourself from that catalog you put in my bookbag."

"Color?"

"Pink, if you must know, like the bandeau I probably don't need."

"You'll have to show me, but not right now. Right now, I want to make you feel good."

He follows through by sliding his hand beneath the elastic at her mound and pushing aside the scrap of fabric to run his fingers along her fold. An involuntary noise sounds from the back of her throat and she parts her legs for him, leaning back against his chest. He takes advantage of her willingness by sliding his finger into her and she tilts back her head, mewling her pleasure against his neck. He withdraws to circle her clit and repeat the action, savoring the small sounds of pleasure he elicits from her.

Kyoya's fingering is slow and methodical, never pushing her until she's hungering for greater stimulation which she indicates with a murmured, "more" and he steps up the pace until she's moving her hips to increase the pressure he provides. She grapples for his free hand with her own and finds it spanning her hip, holding her steady. Her small hand is atop his larger one, grasping it for leverage as she continues to gyrate against his fingers.

They're both breathing heavily and Haruhi can feel him growing hard against her lower back. The thought that she's the one causing it to happen is exciting and knowing there's no one around to interrupt or stop them, she gives herself over to the sensations completely.

"Say my name," Kyoya commands and she does as he withdraws his hand to flutter the pads of his fingers quickly against the now engorged bud of her pleasure. The sudden change ratchets her higher. "I want you," he exhales. "I want to be inside you."

His need is clear and as she tips over the edge into a hard climax, she breathes, "Yesss" and a cry blossoms from her throat. Kyoya slows his movements but continues stroking as spasms shake her body, driving thought from her mind.

He presses his lips into her hair, allowing them time to catch their breath. Eventually, he sits forward and stands, bringing Haruhi along, still glowing from their sexplay. She straightens her dress which shows no damage and when she turns to look at Kyoya, his eyes are intent on her, pupils wide with desire.

"Where can we go?" she asks.

"I have an idea," he answers.

He takes her hand and leads her, this time with determination, through more gardens until they come to another enclosed, private patio, this one she vaguely remembers as housing a large hot tub. Now, it holds what looks to be an onsen with steam rising off the water.

Haruhi stops, causing Kyoya to pull up short. "Wait a minute. Seems like you were planning something all along Mr. I-Have-An-Idea."

Kyoya drops his head while giving her a sideways glance saying, "Did I mention that my family just replaced the hot tub with this unit? It's the latest in health care. This naturalistic setup gives those unable to travel to an actual hot spring the feeling that they're experiencing one. I thought we might give it a try to see if it's that true."

She tips her head to one side. "Sounds like when we visited the Tropical Aqua Garden."

"Similar, though without the wildlife, the Black Onion Squad or the Host Club interfering with our enjoyment."

"I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"Who said anything about swimsuits?" At the look of surprise in her face, adds, "You said you're wearing something pink and lacy, didn't you? I'm sure that'll do."

She heaves a great breath, her eyes meeting his. "I'll need help with the zipper." She turns her back to him and he steps in, his hands spanning her waist, then rising to cup her breasts.

"Ummm, the zipper?" she urges and he smiles, undoing the garment easily.

"There are hangers, yukata and zori in the Ladies' cabana," he says.

She steps away, giving him her own version of a sideways Host smile and leaving him behind to enter the changing room. As she undresses, she hears some ethereal New Age music begin to play and when she emerges, she finds Kyoya already in the water, his eyeglasses off and his arms outstretched along the walls. At one end of the pool, water gurgles down a bank of natural stone adding more healing sound to the mix. Sandalwood incense is burning on a bamboo table beside a single orchid.

She stands at the edge of the onsen knowing that she's about to take a further step into adulthood. Somehow, she never imagined it would be like this, but she's glad that she is, even if she is scared, and glad that it's with him. She sheds the zori and flowered yukata and sits down at the top of the steps leading into the water wearing only the bandeau and thong. Arranging herself into a pretty pose she softly calls Kyoya's name. No answer. She calls again and still, no answer.

She notices his eyes are closed. _"_ Great," she mumbles and enters the water, sitting opposite him on the inlaid bench, submerged up to her chest, the water lit from underneath allowing her to study Kyoya's body. It's lean from hours of kyudo practice, muscular without being bulky, and naked. Kyoya is naked! She's never been in the presence of a live naked man before and curiosity overtakes her as she studies her lover's lightly muscled arms and chest, tapered waist, the ribs and hip bones visible. Then there's the cock which she thinks plain in its present state and wonders how much it can actually change. His legs are long, accounting for most of his height _._

Gathering her courage, she wades over to where he is and carefully straddles his lap. With his eyes still closed, his arms leave the sides of the pool and engulf her, pulling her against his chest. A secretive smile plays on his lips as his eyes open to meet hers.

"Had a good look did you?" he says causing Haruhi's cheeks to color. "It's okay. I'm not shy about my body though it does seem unfair that you get to see all of me but I haven't seen all of you, although the pink bikini is very nice."

"And what do you think we should do about that?" she says, arching her arms over her head while leaning her face towards his.

He answers by releasing the hooks at the back of her bra and letting it float free. "Perfect," he says, looking down through the water between their bodies at the peaks of her breasts. "Now for the rest." He hitches his thumbs through the elastic on either side of her hips and with one strong tug, rips the elastic open so that the lovely, lacy panties float free, as well.

She gasps, then chides, "Do you know how expensive that lingerie was?"

"I do, since I purchased it, and worth every penny," he says. "This, however, is much better. And fairer, don't you think?"

"I suppose."

As her hands explore the familiar terrain of his chest, his mold themselves to her bottom. He squeezes and she feels the cock she thought plain grow interesting. He nudges her upwards as he slides down, stopping only when his mouth can take in one rose-peaked nipple, his tongue teasing her feminine flesh, drawing from her a prolonged sigh. She burrows her flushed cheek into his damp hair.

He relishes the small sounds that escape her, filling him with masculine pride. He suckles her, hands sliding upward, molding themselves to the concave curve of her waist. He remembers a thousand random touches and as many fantasies. His sighs intermingle with hers as his mouth takes in her other breast. A small whimper of pleasure escapes her at his tongue's rough swipe, and he makes note of her preference.

Their hearts are thrumming, focus narrowing to the moment and the sensations that their bodies are generating. As his cock enlarges, he shifts their positions so Haruhi's core rides its length and he hums with pleasure. They kiss and grind like that, Kyoya growing more and more inflamed until he rasps at her ear, "Did you mean it when you said 'yes' before?"

"To what?" momentarily confused.

"When I said I wanted to be inside you, you said 'yes.' Did you mean it?"

"Will it hurt?" she asks, thinking about the tales she's heard from some of the girls at club.

"Only if you tense up. Please, Haruhi. You're beautiful and I want you so badly." His breathing is labored and he's at full length against her.

She nods assent, her heart pounding. "But slow, yeah?"

"I'll try." He partially lifts her off his lap. "You'll have to help."

She nods and reaches through the water to take hold of his stiffness. She grips a little too hard and Kyoya says, "Easy with that."

"Ooh, sorry," she says easing her grip, causing her hand to slide up and down with the water's movement. He moans in pleasure. "Do that again."

She begins stroking and he closes his eyes. Haruhi watches the pleasure in his features ebb and flow until he says, "Let's get to it." She helps him guide the tip of his cock into her opening.

"You okay?" he asks, noticing her trembling.

"Uh-huh."

"Then I want you to decide how much and how fast you take me in."

"All the way?"

"If you can."

"I can do this," she says with authority.

"I know you can. Good girl," he commends.

They look at each other then, suddenly aware of their actions, their studious attitude and the topic at hand. Laughter breaks out between them, breaking the tension. Haruhi is still chuckling, their foreheads together when he murmurs, "I love you."

"What?" she says in a tiny voice.

"Nothing. I didn't mean to s- Dammit."

Haruhi leans in and kisses him softly, then says, "Let me show you how I feel." Her hands are at his shoulders and she's slowly descending, the water keeping her buoyant as well as Kyoya's hands at her waist.

"I want this," she says. "No matter how far apart we ever are, I want to remember this night and our promise to each other."

"Haru— ahhh."

When she feels her pubic bone bump against his, she looks into his eyes with mild surprise. She begins to move and all speech stops. His mouth is open and it is only his kyudo discipline that prevents him from climaxing immediately.

"Stop," he says and she stills.

His breathing is heavy, ragged and uneven. Her hands brace against his shoulders and he feels the tension of her shins beside his thighs. Seconds that feel like hours pass as he struggles to regain control over himself even as the mere sensation of being inside of her sends waves of pleasure rippling through his body. He wants to savor these moments but she is, quite literally, breathtaking, and he has to admit weakness when he says, "I don't think I can wait for you."

"S'ok," she says sweetly. "Fly."

Even so, he's careful of her as he maneuvers them into a position that allows him to establish a rhythm of his body sliding in and out of her velvet heat. Knowing that he's given her what she needs, he takes control of her hips and drives into her with several brief, powerful thrusts that trigger the sharp crest of climax that rocks his body. He cries aloud, his seed propelled to her as he succumbs to the sweet surrender of Haruhi and ecstasy.

Slow-fading waves of pleasure flush through him, leaving him spent and truly drowsy. Haruhi is limp against him and he buries his nose in the warm, moist recess of her neck. There, he takes in the totality of what has just happened and he's pleased that he is the one to take her innocence, loving her as he does. The mechanics of sex never change, he muses, and gratification is simple enough. It's the emotional impact he feels with her that defines their tryst as different from others he's had, marking him forever not only as her "first," but also as his, in its own way.

Kyoya slips out of her, but keeps his arms around her. "Are you all right?"

She turns her face towards his. In a soft voice, she says, "I've never thought of losing my virginity as something I would save for my wedding night, but I did want it to be with someone I cared about, maybe even someone I love."

"Was it?"

"Yes. Thank you," she whispers and he doesn't ask what she means, exactly, content to leave things as they are.

He suddenly and unaccountably thinks of Tamaki and the words said to him in the backseat of a car so many months ago and finally, finally Kyoya understands the blond's deep need that night. Things are very different now, but at long last, Kyoya is able to forgive Tamaki - fully. He huffs a short laugh.

"What is it?" Haruhi asks.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Sex and love, discrete things good by themselves, but better together. Now he knows.

Haruhi pulls away and climbs up from the onsen. "I need a change of clothes. Do you have something I can wear?"

"Do you have to?"

She turns and finds Kyoya staring with open admiration at her naked body, making her feel suddenly shy again, so she grabs the towel and wraps herself up in it before pulling on the yukata. "Yes, I have to. Besides, I'm taking you up on that offer to see the house again."

Kyoya groans. "Now?"

"Yes, now. I feel good and we still haven't had dessert, remember?"

"Alright," he says in surrender, standing up without a trace of embarrassment to leave the pool, towel off and don his robe and his glasses. "Let's start with the dessert. Aijima made something earlier and set it aside for us."

"Funny thing, but I'm terribly hungry again."

"Then I suppose we should raid the kitchen."

They head into the house, Haruhi again being led through a maze of corridors until they're back in the kitchen lit only by under-counter lighting. They forage and find freshly made mitarashi dango, feeding one another right then and there, sucking the savory sauce off one another's wrinkly fingers.

Thereafter, Kyoya spends time showing Haruhi the mansion's many rooms and floors, leaving her amazed that human beings actually live the way the Ootori do on a regular basis. Everything is top drawer and impeccably kept. The final room inside the house yet to be seen is Kyoya's bedroom.

Haruhi enters the bi-level room and is amazed. "I remember this room being big, but now I think two of my apartments could fit in here!"

"It would seem so," Kyoya says, as if such an observation were assumed. "Would you like to watch a movie or anime?"

"How about an anime movie?"

"I have an early release copy of 'Your Heart, My Mistake,' if you like Studio Neko stuff."

"I love Studio Neko stuff. Let's watch that," Haruhi says as she sits down on the white leather sofa opposite the giant viewing screen. Kyoya gets the streaming started then says, "I'll get you something to wear," then heads up the flight of stairs to the sleep level.

As she watches the mini-documentary about the making of the film, she looks around and notices stacked on the side table nearest to her a pile of black notebooks just like the ones Kyoya uses at Host Club. The top one is labeled "Places" and she picks it up.

She wonders if its snooping if it's so available for viewing. It's a private room, but also an entertainment area. Besides, they're only club notebooks, not personal journals, right?

She looks inside. Her surprise couldn't be greater when she finds not names of customers or columns of expenses but sketches upon sketches of rooms, buildings and landscapes. There are renderings done in pen, pencil and inkstone, beautifully executed. Setting the first book down, she picks up another, this one labeled, "People." In it she finds sketches of their friends at club and classmates. She smiles at the likenesses so wonderfully captured.

It's the third notebook, however, that grabs her attention most. It's label? Haruhi. She opens the book and finds dozens of images of herself – large and small - laughing, yelling, napping - angry, sad, happy; it's herself over the last year and a half in images that fill an entire notebook. Tears fill her eyes.

Kyoya returns, dressed in jeans, a black safari shirt with rolled up sleeves and leather sandals. He approaches Haruhi from behind with an oversized teeshirt and a pair of boxer briefs. "I don't suppose these will do, will they?" He stops short upon seeing Haruhi surrounded by notebooks, the one with her sketches in her hands. "I see you've discovered another one of my secrets," he says.

"I didn't mean to pry," she says, embarrassed just a little, unable to look at him.

"And yet you have." He comes around the sofa and notices her wet cheeks. "Haruhi, please. Are they that bad?"

"They're wonderful!" she says, looking at him with a smile. "I can't believe you never showed them to me before now. Your sister said you were gifted and you are. But, I've seen your notebooks at club and they're just filled with numbers and info about our guests. When did you do these?"

"At random times, when things were going well and no one was paying attention to me. Some I sketched from photos and some I simply did memory. You, for example."

"You can draw me from memory? Surely I'm not that memorable."

"To me, Haruhi, your face is one I look forward to seeing each day and dream about most nights. It's been that way for nearly a year now."

"But we only started dating six months ago. When-?"

"After our day at Bonmal. I found myself thinking about some of the things you said then. I found myself thinking about some of the things I said, too. You've always looked past my façade and that intrigued me. After that, I found myself noticing you more and more."

Haruhi says, "Well, nobody is going to notice me in those clothes," she says, gesturing with her head at the garments he holds, "but turn around and I'll put them on."

"You seem to forget I've already seen you naked."

"No, I haven't forgotten, but too much too soon spoils things. I want to leave you wanting more."

"I already want more, Haruhi. Need I remind you that there's a nice comfortable bed just up that staircase? And I promise you, I'll last longer this time."

"That's alright. I think sharing one of these sofas and watching a movie will be just fine. Then I'm going home.

"Next time," he says, with a twitch of his brow.

"Guess I really am a woman, now, huh?" she says recalling to mind for the both of them words she said the very first time he kissed her. She knows he remembers it, too, by the look on his face as he hands her the items. He turns his back and she slips into the boxers, rolling over the waistband so they're only a little baggy and Kyoya's tee shirt which looks like a dress on her.

As the movie plays, the teens lie side by side, Kyoya's arm draped around Haruhi, and despite wanting to see the film, Kyoya is asleep within five minutes. When Haruhi notices, she slips out from under his arm and donning her zori, kisses his cheek and leaves the room to find Tachibana seated just beyond the closed door.

"May I help you, young Miss?" he asks, standing up as soon as he sees her.

"Kyoya is asleep and I don't want to disturb him. Could you get me a cab, please? I'd like to go home."

"Of course. I'd bring you there myself, but Hotta-san and Aijima-san have gone home and—"

"You can't leave him alone. I know. I get it now. Thank you for taking such good care of him…and me."

"It's a pleasure to serve, young Miss. Your shawl and your purse are on the table by the front door."

"Thank you. I left my formalwear by the onsen."

"I'll have your things sent to your home in the morning, young Miss."

"Thank you. Y'know, one of these days you're going to start calling me Haruhi, like I've asked you a million times."

"On the contrary. One of these days I expect to be calling you my young Master's wife."

"Maybe. One day faaaarrrr in the future. But for right now, it's Haruhi, okay?"

"Of course, young Miss. I'll get you that cab now."

Haruhi just smiles.

End – Epilogue – Part 3/3  
Your Touch

* * *

Your Touch by Blake Lewis [Kyoya–centric]

I've been writing you a story.  
The headline reads we're meant to be.  
See, I'm not one to write such fiction,  
So let me be a reality  
And show you what you mean to me.

BRIDGE  
I'm thinking you and I  
Should roll the dice, get lost in love forever  
'Cause I'm feeling intoxicated.  
I want to taste the air that you've been breathing.

CHORUS (2x)  
So haunt me and feel me.  
I've been waiting for your touch.  
Your beauty consumes me.  
I've never loved someone so…

Before I met you, my heart was heavy.  
It was weighted down from all my pride.  
And now I'm lost in your sweet surrender-  
Confessing this love I have inside.  
So now I'll show you what you mean to me.

BRIDGE

CHORUS (2x)

Much...

You know I'm lost in your sweet surrender...

Now I'm lost in your sweet surrender.

I want to be the one that you run to.  
I want to be the one you say "I love" to.  
Been waiting on forever just to hold you.  
And our love will make the headlines bleed tonight.

CHORUS (2x)

Much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And there you have it. I hope you found this double chapter sexy, sweet and romantic, just like Kyoya and Haruhi together. I couldn't bear to split this into parts and so you have it entire. I hope you enjoyed it, especially after four and a half years of storytelling, endless editing, problem solving, lucid dreaming and speaking dialogues out loud to hear if they sound natural. Yes, we writers are crazy. Isn't it wonderful?
> 
> So many people have made this story a success that I can't take credit alone. ALL of you kept me going and, in the end, I told the story I was meant to tell and that's all any author can do. I stand proud of my accomplishment.
> 
> It's been an honor and a privilege to write this for you. In the process, I've learned a lot about myself as a person and improved as a writer. There have been some dark days, but mainly, the story and all of you have brought me more joy than you can imagine. And so it's with teary eyes and a big smile that I say goodbye to CIO and…arigatomashita gomenizai.

**Author's Note:**

> Music can be found at any number of sites, including Spotify, Pandora and You Tube (as "Clueless in Ouran Playlist. ")
> 
> Next story coming soon...


End file.
